


I Know Your Scent

by chadleymacguff



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), Beauty and the Beast (TV 2012), Teen Wolf (TV), True Blood
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Crossover, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-20
Updated: 2013-02-20
Packaged: 2017-11-29 22:35:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 25,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/692297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chadleymacguff/pseuds/chadleymacguff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles has experience with werewolves and that's enough for him. It never even crossed his mind that there might be more things out in the world that go bump in the night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chance Encounter

**Author's Note:**

> This originally started out as a series of crack!ship photosets that I just happened to write into a story. as always, special thanks to Reyne for helping me beta most of this.

Stiles turned his key in the ignition, pinching his brow in an attempt to relieve the tension forming in his head. He was still fuzzy of the events that had transpired that evening. Everything would come back in pieces. Brief flashes of faces that he didn’t recognize and places he’d never seen before. It was probably from a nightmare induced by too much sugar intake or maybe he’d just finally crashed from all the Adderall he was taking lately to help him study. Either way he was exhausted.

He’d woken up on Scott’s couch with Scott sleeping on the floor. The tv still playing the dvd menu of whatever crappy B movie they were watching. Whatever Stiles was seeing had to have been in one of the dozen movies they’d been watching in their weekly movie marathon. Although he didn’t remember watching a movie about beautiful people dressed in white. He shifted into drive and pulled onto the street just in time for the first few drops of rain to hit his windshield.

“Great. I hate rain.” Stiles grumbled to himself.

He flicked on his wipers and watched the melodic rhythm sway back and forth. Stiles could feel his eyes beginning to lose focus, the lull of sleep trying to pull him under. His head smacked into the steering wheel as his jeep suddenly jerked to a halt.

“Oh god! What the hell!” Stiles looked forward to see a shirtless man standing in front of his vehicle. He stepped out into the rain, the drops pouring over his face soaking into the fabric of his clothes. “Dude! What the hell are you doing?”

The man stood in front of him, eyes large and unfocused in confusion.

“Hey? Are you going to answer me or not?” Stiles was starting to lose his patience. That’s when he noticed his lack of shoes. By the amount of dirt accumulated on his jeans the man had to have been wandering for hours.

“Are you okay?” Stiles wasn’t sure if he would answer considering he hadn’t said anything in the few minutes he’d been attempting to talk to him but it was worth a shot.

“I’m fine.” The man shifted slightly, turning his back to him.

Noticing the blood on his jeans Stiles grabbed his arm. The man quickly turned on the balls of his feet slamming Stiles into the hood of his jeep.

“What the hell is your problem?” He shouted trying to get his arm free from his grip.

The man opened his hand letting go of Stiles. “I’m sorry. I-I don’t know what came over me.” He took a few steps backwards.

Stiles wiped the rain dripping over his brow. He twisted his hand over the sore spot on his arm that he could already feel forming a bruise. “Yeah. Well, you’re lucky I’m too tired to think about pressing charges.”

Stiles scratched the back of his head, looking the man up and down. He was taller than him and had muscles that seemed to envelop his pale skin. Stiles couldn’t help but think that he looked a bit like him. Well, what he kind of envisioned himself anyway.

He looked around at the empty road behind him. There wasn’t another car in sight. No headlights in the distance of anything. Stiles didn’t want too even think about it but his conscience couldn’t let him continue wandering around in the rain without shoes and a shirt on.

“Did you need a ride or something?”

The man turned looking at Stiles standing in front of his jeep, the headlights streaming light in their direction. Stiles watched the man’s eyes travel from him to the worn jeep behind him. He could tell that he was feeling hesitant about the situation.

“I promise I’m not an axe murderer, I just can’t in good conscience leave someone around in the rain like that. Considering you’re walking without a shirt and shoes you might be the murderer.” Stiles petitioned a smile but got nothing in return. Only a look of confusion, as if the man was still trying to process what he was saying.

Stiles grabbed his hand leading him to the passenger’s side of his jeep. He seemed to not put up a fight but merely go along with whatever Stiles wanted, which at this moment was for him to get in the car so he could get out of the rain. It wasn’t until Stiles had popped open the door that he realized the sniffing noise coming from behind him.

“Uh, what are you doing?”

His voice was shaky. Stiles liked to think he was pretty tough but something about picking up strangers on the side of the road and giving them a ride was still making him uneasy, especially in this weather. It was pouring down rain. It was the prime setting for someone to get murdered. In fact, it was the premise of at least three of the movies he’d watched that night.

The man stopped sniffing for a moment.

“Why do you smell so good?”

“What are you talking about?” Stiles lifted an arm to smell himself. “I just smell like me. In fact,” He took another whiff. “I kinda reek.”

If he hadn’t been two inches away from his face, Stiles would swear that his eyes were playing tricks on him. There was no way this guy could have suddenly sprouted fangs. That was impossible. At least he thought it was impossible. It had to have been a trick of the light.

The man pushed in closer, Stiles’ back pressed against the side-view mirror extending from his passenger door. His skin was cold. It was a conflicting temperature compared to his. Stiles could feel the difference even through his water logged clothes. It made him standing at such a close distance all the more sinister.

“Oh god, I’m going to get murdered aren’t I? Why tonight of all nights?” He clinched his eyes closed waiting for whatever sharp object to pierce his skin.

After a moment of nothing, he cracked his eyelid. The man was still standing over him, his blue eyes fixed on Stiles’ face, his arms tensed on either side of him as if to be holding something back versus closing in. His eyes must have been playing tricks on him because the fangs that he was so certain to have seen were gone, nothing but normal human teeth that bit into the man’s bottom lip.

“I have to go.”

Before Stiles had any time to process what he said, he was off in a flash. Something about his speed was inhuman but it was dark and rainy. He could barely see his hand in front of his face let alone another person in the distance. He looked around but there was no trace of him. Stiles was starting to think that all of this was just a hallucination brought on from a lack of sleep and a sugar high crash. He snapped the door closed and hopped back into his jeep. Heading home seemed like his best option since at the moment he was more water than person.

Stiles pulled into his driveway sometime after midnight. His dad’s cruiser was nowhere in sight. He had to assume that he was working late. It wasn’t out of the ordinary these days. He would usually wander in five or six and sleep for a few hours before Stiles would eventually had to rouse him at some point to get ready for the day. It had almost become part of their new routine. The Sheriff had been working numerous late nights on new cases that seemed to just keep pouring in. Reports of animal attacks, grave desecrations, murders and mutilated bodies. The Sheriff and his department had never seen anything like it.

Sometime between the last two blocks the rain had finally let up. Stiles yawned walking up to his door step. Before he could get his key in the door he heard a creek on the bottom step of the wooden porch stairs. He remembered it vividly. Stiles and his dad had been meaning to fix it last summer but never got around to it due to the fact that he had to work and Stiles was off practicing lacrosse in a feeble attempt to get on first string.

He turned slowly to the sight of the man he’d seen no more than twenty minutes ago. His blonde hair still wet from the rain. Stiles was certain that this time he was hallucinating. There was no way that this guy could be on his doorstep. He left him about five miles away from his house; that and the fact that he couldn’t possibly know where he lived.

“Uh, hi?” Stiles said apprehensively.

He was uneasy about engaging him. There was a pulse in the back of his mind that told him that he should run inside and lock all the windows and doors but there was another part of him that didn’t feel threatened at all.

“How did you—“

“I followed your jeep. Sorry.” He spoke quietly, like a child that had just been scolded for doing a misdeed. In the dim light that came pooling from the street light that cast over his frame, Stiles could almost make out what he thought looked like faint streaks of blood sprayed over his chest.

“Right. Of course you did. Because everyone does that.” Stiles stepped forward to unlock the door. He reached in and flipped on the porch light to get a better look.

The man winced at the sudden exposure to the halogen bulb in between them.

“Sorry. Those fuckers can be really bright sometimes.” Stiles was trying to break whatever tension that was looming with an impromptu joke. It wasn’t going over well.

With the extra light he could see now that it was blood on his chest.

“Are you hurt? It looks like you cut yourself or something.”

He didn’t respond.

Stiles took it as an okay to step in closer to get a better look. Stiles reached out a hand to touch where he thought the cuts producing the blood might be, only to have his hand swatted away.

“Hey!”

“Sorry. I just—“ He paused looking down. “Don’t worry about it. It’s not mine.”

Stiles wasn’t really finding the fact that it wasn’t his blood comforting. “What do you mean it’s not yours?”

He glanced up to catch a glimpse of his eyes, innocent of any wrong doing. Stiles couldn’t quite place his finger on it but there was something mesmeric in his gaze, something that was almost comforting.

Stiles let out a sigh stepping back towards the door. “So, do you have a name? I don’t think I can call you guy or whatever.”

He climbed the last few steps stopping in front of Stiles. “Eric.”

Stiles was starting to feel a draft from the wind blowing onto his still soaking clothes that he just remembered he was still wearing. “Right. So I’m going to go inside and change clothes cause these are soaked.”

Eric stopped at the frame of the door. Stiles was half way up the stairs when he realized Eric wasn’t following him.

“Do I have to formally ask you to come inside or something? Are you like, one of those old timey guys that have to have the rug rolled out for them?”

Eric stared at him. Clearly Stiles wasn’t going to get much in the laugh department from him tonight.

“Just get inside and close the door. Oh and try not to get mud on the carpet. It was my mom’s.” He scurried up the steps to his room hearing the door close and click.

Stiles pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it into the loose pile of clothing in the corner. He rummaged around looking for something dry to wear. He picked up a few shirts and sniffed them for freshness. That’s when he was hit with a lingering thought, why would invite a total stranger to come inside his home? He was never this generous. It almost felt like the decision was not his own.

Somewhere between trying to find shorts and tidying up his room he heard the familiar creak in the hallway. He turned to find Eric standing in the door frame still without a shirt  and dripping wet, his muddy feet tracking on the wood floors.

“Oh come on man. I told you not to track any mud in the house.”

Eric looked down at his feet then back at Stiles.

“Sorry. I forgot. I’ll go back outside.”

“No wait.” Stiles sighed. “Just, here.” He opened the drawer next to his bed and tossed a hoodie and basketball shorts at him. “Go clean yourself up in the bathroom. It’s at the end of the hall.”

Eric looked at him vacant.

“You do know how to use a shower don’t you? Please tell me I don’t have to help you wash yourself because that’s where I draw the line.”

Eric turned down the hall. “No. I think I can manage that much.”

It wasn’t until he heard him turn on the shower that he realized that he was still standing in his underwear.

“Great. Now I’m going to have to deal with that awkwardness.”


	2. Drifter

Since his father was killed and he was basically an orphan now, Isaac has been pretty aimless. Sure he had the pack (or what was left of it), but to him it didn’t really feel like home. At the start of everything he’d just been staying with Derek like the other runaways but with Godric and Peter around, he was starting to feel more like an outsider and less of a member of their misfit family.

Being as resourceful as he was, Isaac had been squatting in his old family house until the bank repossessed it and sold it off to the highest bidder. It had no heat and very little food left in it but it was habitable. At least until he could find something more permanent. Scott had offered several times for him to stay with him, which on occasion he’d agree to. He wasn’t stupid enough to pass up on a free meal and a warm place to sleep. Besides it was good for him to get out of the old Lahey home every once and a while. Even though it was vacant the memories still haunted the place.

Isaac rooted around his pocket looking for the zippo lighter that Camden had left in his old army trunk. On the top etched in carefully were his initials. Isaac and Camden were never close but ever since he’d died he found himself missing his brother. Maybe it just was the lack of family that was making him nostalgic but he was really starting to feel alone in the world.

He flipped the lid and lit the cigarette loosely hanging from his mouth. Isaac had never been one for something or any substance for that matter but lately he’d taken to smoking to deal with stress.

Blowing out the smoke into the chilly night air, he glanced over his watch. Isaac never told anyone where he was going. He liked it better that way. It made sneaking and slinking around town that much easier. His watch read about half past nine. Isaac was hoping that the more that he circled the building the more likely he would run into who he was looking for.

Isaac had spent the better part of the last week tracking him down. Vincent Keller, the last man to see his brother alive. While he wasn’t himself too interested in Vincent he still wanted to know about what happened when he and his brother were abroad. He was hoping that his stories, in some small part, might help him feel connected in some way. Isaac hadn’t seen Vincent since the funeral but when he was digging through some of Camden’s old he found a photograph of his unit. He recognized him immediately. Unfortunately for him, Camden was horrible about keeping personal information like address and phone numbers. He’d have to rely on his intellect.

Isaac sat down on the steps that led into the building he’d been stealthily stalking all night. It checked his watch again before he felt his eyelids starting to droop over his field of vision. The next thing he knew he was being woken up by the sound of dishes being stacked away into a nearby cabinet.

“Where am I?” Isaac mewed weakly trying to scratch the sleep from his eyes.

Vincent turned to Isaac still on the couch trying to take in his surroundings. “Oh, you’re finally awake.” He remarked with a smile.

Isaac pulled himself to up almost knocking a few things off of the nearby coffee table. “How did I get up here? Last thing I remember was sitting on the stairs in front of the building.”

“Well, I found you on the front steps and I couldn’t just leave you out there. So I carried you up here to my apartment.” Vincent tossed a towel at Isaac hitting him in the face. “You can help me dry since you’re awake.”

Isaac cracked a smile. Walking through Vincent’s apartment he couldn’t help but notice the lack of pictures and pretty much anything else personal. Everything there seemed to just be the essentials. He walked over to the sink stopping next to Vincent who was rummaging around looking for something under the sink.

“So, why were you sitting on the steps of my building?” Vincent asked peering from under the sink for a moment.

Isaac tensed at the question.

“You’re not some kind of stalker are you? Not that I’m not happy to see a familiar face. It’s just. I haven’t seen you since Camden’s funeral.”

He twisted something under the sink back into place. Isaac could only assume it had something to do with the empty garbage disposal replacement part on the counter.

“What are you doing down there?”

“Oh the garbage disposal on this is broken. The guy that rented me the place neglected to tell me that before I moved in.” He grunted.

Isaac nodded as he wiped a glass dry and placed it on the counter. He was trying to be as quiet as possible hoping that if he didn’t make a sound Vincent would forget that he was even there. It was his feeble attempt at avoiding the question of how he basically tracked him down through some of his brother’s old contacts and a series of google searches.

“You still didn’t answer my question.”

“Which question was that?” Isaac inquired innocently.

Vincent stood up, shutting the small wooden doors. He tugged the towel out of Isaac’s hands wiping the residue of sludge and filth from his fingers.

“You’re deflecting. Camden was good at that too.”

Isaac could feel his face flush. He turned back to the rest of the apartment zeroing in on a trunk near the window.

“What’s that?” He asked walking over to it.

“It’s my old army trunk. All of us got one. It made it easier to tote all our stuff around. I sure Camden had his sent back to your house after he died.”

Isaac scoffed at the thought. “I’m sure he did. I haven’t seen it though.”

He was lying. It was where he found the photo of him and Vincent with the rest of their unit but he wasn’t going to come out and say that.

“Mind if I take a look?”

Isaac’s voice was sheepish, as if there was something else he meant behind his question. Vincent simply extended an arm giving him the go ahead.

He crouched down and popped the rusted lock that was keeping the latch securely closed. He could immediately tell that it hadn’t been opened for a while. There was a layer of sand and dust that coated everything.

 Vincent walked over and leaned against the window.

“Looking for anything in particular or are you just being inquisitive?” He smirked.

Isaac picked up an identical photograph to the one in his back pocket and smiled.

“You guys must have had fun over there huh?” Isaac said showing him the picture.

“Yeah.” He took the photograph from his hand peering over the fond memory. “Whenever we weren’t out on a mission we had some down time to do stupid stuff like that. It was Camden’s idea for all of us to get dressed in bikini’s and take pictures.” Vincent chuckled. “He was always trying to find was for us all to chill out and come together as a group. We were kind of like family. I’m sure you already knew that. You probably knew him better than any of us did.”

“Nope.” Isaac said flatly.

“He was your brother. I’m sure you two did stuff like that all the time.”

“No we didn’t. Camden and I were never close.” Isaac took the picture back looking at the tall boy in the foreground wearing shades and a spotted bikini top. “Camden was always dad’s favorite, even before mom died. He doted on him in a way that he never did me.”

Vincent folded his arms with a sigh.

“Well I’m sure he didn’t mean it that way. Maybe you were just misinterpreting his affections. Parents have a tendency to do that. I know mine did.”

"No. He made it crystal clear how he felt when those soldiers knocked on our door to hand him my brother’s personal affects. See, our dad had a mean temper. That night after the funeral he got stinking drunk and beat the crap out of me. ‘I wish you were the one that died!’ He said with every swing.” Isaac kept his eyes focused on his brother in the photograph. His happy smile. His carefree attitude. “It wasn’t until I started coughing up blood that he even stopped. He said it was my fault. That I deserved it for being such a disappointment.”

A tear dropped onto the glossy paper. Vincent looked over at the boy hunched over the open trunk trying to keep it all together wishing that there was something he could do for him, some semblance of comfort that he could offer. But he was at a loss for words.

“You know, for a while I actually believed him. I thought he was right. It wasn’t until recently that I realized how wrong he was. That he was speaking out of grief. I think he hated me because he could see them in me. Camden. Our mom. I was the constant reminder that I was all he had left and he hated me for it.”

Vincent placed a hand on his shoulder only to have Isaac pull away, tossing the picture back into the trunk without a word.

“Isaac. I-I don’t know what to say.” Vincent leaned in with a clumsy attempt to lock eyes with him.

Isaac turned away trying to keep what little bit of himself that wasn’t exposed hidden. It was enough that he’d spilled his guts to a just about stranger; he didn’t need Vincent feeling sorry for him.

“Don’t worry about it.” Isaac wiped what little tears where left from his face and shut the truck, sitting on the top. “He’s dead anyway.”

“When did that happen?”

“A couple of weeks ago. That’s kind of why I tracked you down.”

Vincent’s brow suddenly tightened at the words.

“What do you mean?”

“I need a place to crash and I was thinking since you are my brother were such good friends you’d let me stay here for a little while.”

Vincent pushed off the window sill and walked back into the kitchen. Isaac bit at the hangnail on his index finger waiting for an answer. He was starting to jones for a cigarette but they were still in his top jacket pocket on the opposite side of the room. Isaac was starting to think he was developing an oral fixation.

“I don’t know Isaac.” Vincent said after several excruciating moments of silence. “Don’t you have anywhere else to stay?  Why can’t you stay at your place?”

“My dad didn’t have a will and being that he still didn’t pay off the house, the bank was been sending real estate agents over to look over the place.”

“Don’t you have any friends you could stay with?”

“I thought you were a friend.”

Vincent stopped what he was doing for a moment. He peered at a fixed point on the countertop, looking into the clear glass in front of him. There were a million thoughts going through his head, mostly about how Isaac staying with him would put him in danger. He couldn’t just cast him out onto the street but he couldn’t very well have him staying in an apartment that he was confined to ninety percent of the time.

“Look, Isaac. You don’t know what you’re asking of me. It’s a big deal for me to let you stay here. There’s… _things_ you don’t know about me.”

Isaac glided across the floor to the coatrack in the corner where his jacket was. He pulled out a cigarette, lighting it by the door.

“If it’s that big a deal I can just go now. I can figure something else out. It’s no big deal.” He turned the door knob but before he could get it open, Vincent hand his hand on the door pressing it closed.

“What are you—“

Isaac looked into Vincent’s eyes. They were glowing a pale shade of yellow. He took a step back disbelieving of what was in front of him.

“You see. This is why you can’t stay here.” He bolted the several locks lining the door.

Vincent motioned away towards the rest of the apartment, his back turned.

“You can stay here but just for a few nights. I don’t want to get you involved with my problems. Believe me. You don’t want any part of it.” He stepped over to the coat closet pulling out a pillow and an extra blanket he kept tucked away for company. “I’ll take the couch, you can have to bed.”

Isaac brushed past him trying not to say anything, that’s when Vincent caught his arm.

“Just, don’t make me regret this.” His voice was low and pleading.

It was something Isaac recognized well. It was the same tone his brother used before he left. The same voice he used when he told him to take care of himself and to look after dad. Little did he know it would be the other way around.

“Yeah. Don’t worry. Secret’s safe with me.” Isaac felt his fingers drop off of his skin leaving a lingering warmth that he almost missed instantaneously.

He sat at the edge of the bed of the studio apartment, looking around the corner at a silent Vincent lay out the sheet and click off the lamp on the end table. Tugging off his jeans he felt a sense of remorse that pulled his stomach into knots. Sure it was one thing to ask the guy for a place to stay but for him to tell him something like ‘I’m a creature of the night’ was another. Isaac couldn’t help but think that it wouldn’t have been so bad if he wasn’t keeping the same secret from him. They weren’t exactly the best of friends but if Vincent was a wolf he kind of had a right to know he had another one staying with him.

Isaac flopped back onto the mattress, the light from crescent moon pooling in over him. He could feel his conscience eating away at him as the hours passed without sleep. The constant tossing and turning was only making matters worse. It wasn’t until first few rays of sunshine hit his face that he even realized he’d fallen asleep. He could smell the sizzling of bacon on the stove.

“Breakfast will be ready in a few minutes. I’m kind of an early bird.” Vincent called from the kitchen.

Maybe it was better that he didn’t tell him. The less they knew about each other, the better.


	3. What makes us so different?

Derek slammed the door behind him peering pensively at the small man standing in the foyer in front of him.

“What the hell is your problem?” He shouted. His voice cracked at the end revealing some of the hurt he was trying to mask.

Derek had spent the better part of the last month trying to track Godric down. Even with his advanced tracking skills it proved to be a task. One would think that with the two knowing each other for so long Derek would get the idea that if Godric didn’t want to be found, you wouldn’t find him. But Derek wasn’t willing to just give up.

Eventually he lucked out when he was snooping around a local bar where Vamps frequent. The two were talking about an old vampire that had been caught by some radical group on the rise. They were looking to hold him up as an example to all other vampires. Humans were not their food source.

After a lot of what Godric characterized as unnecessary violence, Derek pulled him out of their faded barn they were using as a headquarters and dragged him back to his place. The entire way Godric refused to talk to him. It was as if he didn’t want to look at Derek.

Godric stood next to the banister his back turned to Derek, silent and unflinching to his rise in tone.

Derek hated when he would do that. Shut him out. It was one of the less desirable aspects of his personality.

“Answer me!” Derek shouted. He could feel himself losing his temper, claws fighting their way to the surface, only being held back by his force of will.

“There’s no need for shouting Derek. I heard you the first time.” Godric said quietly, his head slightly turned to peek over his shoulder.

Godric was a man of many mysteries. He was someone that Derek could never figure out, even after years of companionship. He was always keeping him guessing. Ever since the two of them met that cold night after his parents died.

\--+--

Derek was hiding out in the woods from Laura. He could taste of ash still fresh in the air. His small frame leaned against the giant trunk of the biggest tree on their property. Derek knew that Laura could easily find him. It was where he would hide after an argument with their father. It was his sanctuary. A place where he could go to be alone and right now that’s all he wanted. The guilt of being responsible for the decimation of his family, it was too much for his conscience to bear.

He pulled off the small backpack he had snugly secured to his back. His shaky hands pulled at the zipper revealing a jar of monkshood wolfsbane. Derek’s family kept a few around in the event of one of them losing control on the full moon. They would lace the chamber underneath the house with a small layer. Not enough to be lethal but enough to keep the captive subdued. This wasn’t Derek’s reason for carrying such a large amount out into the middle of the woods where no one would come looking for him.

Derek twisted the lid off, the pungent smell burning the inside of his nostrils. He closed his eyes smacking the back of his head on the bark behind him. This was his penance. To pay for his crimes he resolved that the only solution was to take his own life, a small price to pay in his eyes.

He felt a tightening in his chest, the fragrance permeating from the jar already hitting his repertory system. Derek reached in pulling out a bundle with purple flowers budding from the central stem. He lifted the flower to his mouth hesitant to take the final step of ingesting the poison.

Before he could bring himself to slide the lethal dose passed his teeth, an unknown hand swatted it away. Derek looked around to see no one, his tear filed eyes still burning, trying to find the culprit in the dark.

“Who’s there?” He shouted.

No one answered. Just the sound of the night pulsed in his ears. He could hear his heart beating faster as the blood rushed to his head. Derek tried to focus his vision to look past what was in his immediate surroundings. He turned back to the backpack still leaning against the large roots sticking up from the ground. Just as he brushed a few fingers over the zipper of the opening, the bag was ripped out of his hands.

Derek wiped around.

“Show yourself!” He screamed, voice shaking. His claws extended to defend himself against whatever was circling around him.

“Do you really want to kill yourself?”

Derek turned to giant redwood to his left to see a boy sitting in the hollow knot at the base. He couldn’t have been much older than he was. If he had to guess, he was maybe a year or two older than him.

“Who are you?” Derek asked standing his ground.

After years of training with his father he knew better than to approach an enemy without knowing more about them. Caution was always the central thesis of every lesson. It was how they had survived the hunters for so many years. Derek couldn’t help but wish he’d paid more attention. If he had then none of this would have even happened.

The young boy wagged a finger sucking at his teeth.

“We’re not talking about me. We’re talking about you and the question was; do you really want to kill yourself?”

Derek was taken aback at this stranger’s tact. He didn’t seem to be intimidated at all by his fangs or claws at all. Thinking about it, why would he be? Whoever this guy was, he was fast; much faster than he was.

“I don’t know. Maybe. Why do you care?”

The boy closed the jar zipping the contents inside. He slung the sack over his shoulder, standing to his feet. Derek took immediate notice of how his feet made practically no sound on the leaf covered ground. It was probably how he snuck up on him without him hearing. But he wouldn’t have heard him anyway. He was too immersed in his own problems to worry about anything happening around him.

The boy took a few steps towards Derek, careful to leave a good distance between them. Light from the moon broke through the thicket of branches overhead illuminating a portion of his face. He was pale as a corpse with dark circles around his eyes making them look slightly sunken. Derek could smell earth on him, like he’d been sleeping in the ground. There was something familiar about the scent but he couldn’t place it off the top of his head. The effects of the wolfsbane were still clouding his mind with a fog that he could barely navigate.

He extended a hand between them.

“I’m Godric.”

Derek looked at the hand in front of him, then back to the body attached. He couldn’t hear a heartbeat.

“I didn’t ask.”

“Well, I volunteered it. Just cause you’re a werewolf doesn’t mean we can’t be civilized.”

“H-how did you—“

“Know? Well aconite is a pretty particular herb. It can only be used to kill werewolves. Well, that and it’s used in spells. But I highly doubt you’re a witch considering you were about to eat it. Witches don’t do that.”

Derek retracted his talons, placing his hand in Godric’s. His skin was cold to the touch. It pricked against the warmth of his own.

“Derek. Derek—“

“Hale. Yeah I know.”

Derek pulled back apprehensive. His caution made Godric chuckle.

“Don’t get all defensive. Derek.” He said with smile. “The Hales are the only wolves around these parts. A family of wolves descended from La Bete himself. He was a nice guy actually.”

Derek took another step back.

“I can basically hear the gears in your head turning.” Godric said with a smile.

“You’re a vampire.”

“Correct. And you are a suicidal werewolf.”

Derek furrowed his brow, his teeth gritted in annoyance.

“Ah ah ah. Careful with that brooding. It could become a force of habit.”

“What are you doing here anyway?”

Godric disappeared in a flash. Even with Derek’s heightened senses he had a hard time following him.

“Up here little wolf.” Godric mewed. He sat perched on a low hanging tree branch just overhead. “You know, with a little training you might have been able to find me without my help.”

“I could follow your scent. Why are you here?”

Godric whistled, kicking his dangling legs in the open space.

“Hey! I’m talking to you.”

“Oh me?” He jumped down landing directly in front of Derek. “Sorry. I didn’t realize.”

Derek narrowed his eyes at him. Godric’s smug smile plastered on his pale face exposed in the moonlight.

“I was actually just passing through. I just so happened to be passing by when you caught your whole tearful display of emotion or whatever. Point is I’m intrigued.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

\--+--

Godric sat on the bottom step of the creaky staircase. He danced his fingers over the light layer of dust that was collected in between the posts of the railing.

“You know Derek. I could give you the money to rebuild this place if you’d just let me.”

Derek bit his lower lip trying to fight back words that he knew he might regret. Things like how stupid Godric was for letting himself get caught. How reckless he was in how he’d been carrying himself lately. There were numerous thoughts running through his head but the only one that seemed to stand out was that he finally found him and he was safe.

He took a seat next to Godric. For a moment he just watched him. He was still as young as the day they first met. The only thing that ever seemed to change about Godric was his clothes and his hair style.  Derek noticed that he had an affinity for following trends. Godric always said it helped him blend in better with society. Old outdated outfits were a dead giveaway to vampire. Which begs the question, how someone as old and cautious as Godric could get caught by a bunch of idiot humans without any particular training or skills in hunting.

Derek watched Godric’s playful fingers make drawings in the dust, little men fighting wars against each other. He could remember Godric telling him stories of his travels, of the numerous wars that he’d fought in; countless battles throughout history, killing men just for sport. Sometimes Derek would forget just how ruthless he could be. It was hard to believe that someone as peaceful as Godric could be a killer.

Derek had noticed it a few years ago, Godric’s sudden shift in mood. He’d become apathetic to most things that they used to do together. Derek wasn’t even sure if he was still eating regularly anymore. With a human it’s easy to tell the signs but when vampire is skipping meals, it’s hard to notice.

“I looked for you.” Derek said, finally breaking the silence.

Godric kept drawing his pictures, unnerved.

“I didn’t ask you too.”

“You knew I would.”

“I had hoped you wouldn’t.”

Derek pulled at the loose string at the end of his jacket. He was at a loss for words when it came to talking to him when he got like this, stiff and distant.

“I don’t know why you’re making such a big deal about this. No one asked you to be my savior Derek. You have this white knight complex where you think that you have to come in and save the day when it’s not your fault. It wasn’t your fault Derek. I wanted to get caught.”

If Derek wasn’t certain that he could hear a twig snap in the middle of the woods, he would swear he heard him wrong.

“What?”

“It has nothing to do with you.”

“The hell it doesn’t!” He was shouting again. And this time he wasn’t going to calm down. “You purposely walked into a trap set by those idiots so that you would be captured?”

Godric sighed. He knew that anything he had to say would just upset him more. When Derek got like this it was just best to stay quiet and let him vent. At times Godric would find himself wondering why he would let him talk to him in such a manner but anytime he tried he could never find an answer. It was just, what he did.

“This is just like you. You’re so selfish. Only thinking about yourself.”

Godric stopped doodling to look at Derek.

“You weren’t thinking about anyone else when you made that decision were you. You knew that they were going to kill you. But that’s what you wanted right? You didn’t take into account people like me.”

Godric stood up and walked into the neighboring study looking for book in the stack lining the dirty table near the wall. Derek followed him. He wasn’t going to let Godric finagle his way out of this conversation with his reverse psychology silent treatment. Not this time.

 “So what? You’re just going to ignore me.”

“Yes.” Godric replied hunched over the remaining volumes of the Hale family library.

“Why?”

“Because you’re holding on too tight Derek. I remember a certain boy in the woods not too long ago who wanted nothing more than to make the pain stop. But I intervened.”

“I’m just trying to return the favor. I was stupid back then. It’s not what I really wanted.”

A sigh escaped his lips. “You have to let me go.”

Derek thumped a fist against the threshold.

“I already lost Laura and now you want me to let you go?”

Godric turned back to the books on the table, looking for something he could read before the sun started peeking over the horizon.

“Fine. Do what you want. Maybe next time I’ll just kill you myself and save you the trouble.” Derek rushed out the door, the banging of the wood against the frame echoing off the walls.


	4. Family

To say that Scott was frustrated would have been an understatement. Lately all he’d been doing since his breakup with Allison was studying. Something he’d never really done. Well, not in the last year anyway. There was always so much going on. With becoming a werewolf and finding the alpha that bit him and then dealing with the whole Kanima killing spree and Allison’s psychotic grandfather situation; there just wasn’t any time. And his grades showed.

Scott promised his mom that he would do better this year and taking an SAT prep course over the summer was part of the agreement. Unfortunately for him, everything that was in the stupid book he got wasn’t sinking in. It was like another language. Maybe it was his punishment for not really paying attention in class all year, especially in English. It wasn’t his fault. How could he focus with the radiant vision that is Allison Argent sitting just a few seats away?

This particular chapter that had been staring at him for the better part of the last hour was over Romeo and Juliet. He vaguely remembered the premise of the story but none of the details. All he could remember is that it was the week Allison had switched shampoo. It was all he could focus on, the sweet scent of lavender that mixed perfectly with the smell of her skin; the warmth of her skin when she would push her hair off of her shoulder so that she could write something down.

“Oh great.”

Scott looked down to the throbbing constrained by his jeans.

“Scott! Can you come here for a moment?” Melissa shouted from down the hall.

“Yeah, be there in a sec.”

He stood up hoping that the redirection of blood flow would suddenly keep him from pointing his way to his mom’s room. After a few readjustments, Scott walked into Melissa’s room to find an overstuffed suitcase on the floor, with her throwing more things onto the bed from the closet.

“Oh good, you’re here.” She chirped, popping her head out of the closet. “Can you close that? You know, with your freaky supernatural strength.”

Scott fought the urge to roll his eyes and pressed a knee into the top of the bag, pulling the zipper closed.

“So, how long are you going to be gone?”

“Not long enough for you to have a house party if that’s what you’re asking.” Melissa pushed another full bag out of the closet. “I’ll be gone for about a month or so. Your Uncle should be here in the morning to keep an eye on you. Not that I don’t trust you but, I did find a sock in the dishwasher this morning. Kind of makes me question your judgment.”

Scott zipped the bag closed and stood it next to the larger one by the door. On the dresser he caught a glimpse of an old family photo. It was the only one she still kept in the house from when his parents were still married.

He remembered that day. His dad had promised to take him to the park to fly kites. They spent hours running back and forth, watching the kite soar in the open sky. To surprise the two of them, his mom showed up with a picnic and turned the whole day into a family outing. Scott could remember that it was one of the last times they were together as a family; before the fighting and the yelling and the eventual divorce.

He put the picture in the dusty frame back on the dresser, hidden behind several bottles of perfume. Scott was sure she’d strategically placed it there, out of the way but still in line of sight to invoke fond memories from time to time.

“I didn’t know you still had this.”

Melissa poked her head out of the closet to see what he was talking about.

“Yeah.” She said walking over. “I think it’s the only one I still have left that doesn’t have your father’s head cropped out.” She wiped a finger of the glass, collecting the particles that had settled from its time of sitting neglected. Melissa gave a wary smile as she gave Scott’s arm a gentle squeeze. “Don’t forget to take out the garbage tonight. And at least _try_ to clean your room while I’m gone. I’m tired of picking up all the clothes that you seem to just toss all over the floor.”

Scott nodded silently biting the corner of his lip. He knew his mom didn’t like talking about his father and he never pried.

Two hours passed by in a flash. He promptly helped his mother with her bags and loaded her into the taxi that pulled up to front of the house and just like that she was gone. Scott had been home alone many times but this was the first time he actually felt alone.

He flopped onto his old mattress, staring at the blank ceiling. He could feel the familiar pull in his gut that longed to be next to Allison. Scott pulled his cell phone from his pocket and scrolled to her number. He’d done this a number of times since their breakup; stared at her number hoping that she would call instead of him. She’d asked him not to drop by her house anymore after she caught him peering through her window one night. It wasn’t good for either of them. She needed time and her space and Scott knew he had to respect that. He just wanted to see her.

As his mind wandered off he felt the phone buzz in his hand. Stiles’ picture popped up with him wearing a ridiculous mustache and glasses.

“Hey Stiles.”

“Dude, you are NOT going to believe what happened to me.”

“Did Lydia finally stop ignoring you and now you two are at a chapel in Vegas?”

“Hey! Don’t mock my master plan. It’s going to happen one day Scot and you belittling my noble intentions of marriage aren’t helping.”

It was nice to hear his familiar snark. He was starting to get concerned since Jackson and Lydia’s profound display of love in the warehouse, his best friend had been a little distant to say the least. Sure they got together on occasion, like the other night when they had a movie marathon but overall he’d barely seen him.

“Just tell me why you called you goober.”

“Oh, right. So the other night when I was coming home…”

“Yeah…?”

The line was silent.

“Stiles?”

“Hold on a second.”

He heard him put down the phone and the rustle of something in the background.

“Yeah, Scott? I’m going to have to call you back. I, uh, have to clean the basement.”

“Oka—“

Before he could finish his sentence he heard the familiar tone of a disconnected call.

“Well that was strange. Even for him.”

Scott dropped the phone next to him and pulled down one of the pillows from the head of the bed. He glanced over at the clock.

 _A quarter passed eight._ He thought to himself before he felt the familiar droop of his eyelids and then, darkness.

“Hey.”

Scott felt a nudge against his arm. He immediately swatted his hand at whatever it was trying to keep his eyes closed for more sleep.

“Kid, wake up.”

Scott recognized the tone of the voice but it was till foreign to him. Like someone he’d met before but forgotten from the lack of interaction. He turned over to see a man in his thirties with a scraggly beard and a few grey hairs peppered in for age.

“Uncle Al when did you get here?”

Alcide slapped his hand against Scott’s thigh for him to move over.

“I just got in. I see your mom didn’t make any food before she left. That’s just like her. She knows I’d be hungry when I got here.”

Scott chuckled. It had been a few years since he’d last seen Alcide. He was still the same as ever, subtle barbs at his sister and all. Only thing that seemed to be different was the amount of grey in his hair.

“We could always order a pizza.”

“It’s after midnight. I don’t think anywhere is still going to be open.” Alcide got up and walked over to door, stopping in the threshold. “Hey, come down stairs with me. Maybe we can find something in the kitchen to make. Or did you need more sleep? I know how you beauty queens are. If you don’t get your twenty hours you’re super grumpy.”

Scott pulled the pillow from under his head and threw it in his direction. Alcide jumped to the side, letting it hit the wall behind him.

“Oh, testy, testy.”

Down in the kitchen Scott found Alcide hunched over rummaging through the freezer. He’d already pulled out a few frozen meals his mom had stored away for the duration of her trip. Casserole, lasagna, and a few frozen pizzas scattered in for good measure.

“Are you really going to eat all that?”

“Not all at once but it’s good to have options.”

Scott slid his phone onto the island counter top and bumped his uncle out of the way.

“Hey!”

“If you want to be useful, you can preheat the oven.”

Alcide smiled and punched in a few buttons on the electronic stovetop.

“You know, we didn’t have this fancy space age tech when I was growing up. Your mom and I had to actually light the oven with a match in our old house. She almost burned her eyebrows off once.”

Scott shook his head with a smile looking for something that would ease both of their growling stomachs. He finally decided on the stack of pizzas that were already thawing on the counter and shoved the excess back in the freezer for another day.

As he closed the door, Scott heard the buzz of his phone on the counter. Before he could grab it, Alcide snatched the phone and rushed to the other side of the kitchen.

“Hey! Give that back!”

“Is it a text from your girlfriend?” He teased.

Scott reached to try and snatch the phone from his hand but Alcide had a height advantage on him. He could easily have jumped and pried it from his hands but being that his uncle didn’t know his little secret, it was best to just play it safe and stick to normal teenage behavior.

Alcide looked at the screen.

“Oh, no. False alarm, it’s from someone named Derek? Who’s Derek?”

Scott snatched the phone back from him. Even though he was his uncle, he acted more like his brother; a really annoying one that he never really wanted but got stuck with anyway.

“No one. Just a…I guess you could say friend.”

“Wait. Derek? As in Derek Hale?”

Scott punched in a few buttons and dropped the phone into his back pocket.

“Yeah, why?”

Alcide pushed a firm palm against Scott’s chest nearly slamming him into the refrigerator. Scott was shocked at the amount of force he used. It was much more than one would expect from a human.

“Stay away from the Hales.”

Scott furrowed his brow in confusion.

“What do you know about the Hales?”

Alcide stepped back a few paces. He turned and started picking at the edge of the cardboard box the pizza came in.

“More than I’d care too. Trust me.”

Scott stood up straight, his back still pressed against the fridge. He wanted to know more of what he was talking about. Scott had no idea that anyone in his family even knew who the Hales were, other than his mom and she only knew because the two of them had lived in town for so long. The Hale House fire was big news. An entire family burned alive with only one survivor.

The alarm on the stove went off.

“The oven’s preheated.” Alcide pointed out, voice low and blank.

Scott walked over and put two pizzas on the racks. Alcide didn’t look at him he just walked out the back door, the wood frame shaking as it caught the back swing. It was a familiar sight, watching someone leave the way he did. The silhouette his shadow cast on the grass as he stepped into the darkness reminded Scott of the night he father left; the way he stormed out of the house and just disappeared into the night as his mother sat crying on the stairs.

They both knew that they were better off with him gone but it still hurt. It hurt just as much as the two of them sitting him down the next day to dinner and telling him they were getting a divorce. It was just a means to an end. An end to all the fighting and slamming doors and nights he had to pretend he didn’t her mom sobbing through the walls. Scott knew it was over that night he watched him go. That was when his father left and the man he called dad ceased to exist in his mind.

He must have spaced out; the next thing he heard was the beeping of the oven going off. Scott stared at the crisp crust of the pizza dough on the plate on the stove top. Steam rose from the freshly melted cheese and filled his nostrils with the delicious aroma that he loved. But he couldn’t bring himself to eat any. Suddenly he wasn’t hungry.


	5. Strained Words, Sweet Goodbye

Stiles didn’t know what was weirder, the fact that he had a complete stranger staying in his basement or the fact that he hadn’t told anyone about it yet. He tried to tell Scott last night when he called but Eric almost knocked over the bookshelf of his mother’s books. He still wasn’t sure how he managed to do that.

He pulled into his driveway and shut off his head lights. Hopping out he could have sworn he heard something rustling in the bushes. Knowing Beacon Hills it was probably Derek sneaking around in the dead of night. He didn’t know what the deal was with him and his skulking but as long as he didn’t bother him Stiles really didn’t care.

Stiles opened his trunk and pulled out the bags from the grocery store. He wasn’t sure what Eric would eat so he just got a stuff he’d usually get. Pop tarts, hot pockets, chips, soda; typical junk food that everybody likes.

“Holy!”

Stiles was looking down so he didn’t notice Eric walk up next to him.

“Sorry. I just, wanted to know if you wanted help with the bags.”

Stiles exhaled trying to catch up with his heartbeat.

“No. I’m okay Eric. What are you doing out here anyway?”

“I wanted to get some air. Plus I heard your dad come in about an hour ago and I didn’t want him to find me sitting in your room.”

“What were you doing in my—nevermind.” He didn’t even bother finishing the thought.

Stiles had to appreciate how considerate he was. Eric had been the perfect house guest. He helped out with his chores and kept pretty quiet in the day when his dad was home. It actually hadn’t occurred to him but he didn’t really see him during the day. Eric seemed to just pop up after the sun went down. It was a bit odd but nothing too out of the ordinary, at least not to Stiles.

Eric stared at the vein pulsing on Stiles’ neck, the blood pumping under his skin. It was calling to him. Eric was hungry, he hadn’t eaten in days and Stiles just smelled so good. Like honey and fresh air mixed with sunshine. It was making his mouth water. Instinctively his fangs snapped down into place. Eric could feel his predatory instincts taking over, his body lurching slightly in Stiles; direction.

Stiles of course wasn’t paying attention. He was too busy looking at the scrape on his bumper. He was almost certain that it was that stupid Honda that was parked next to him in the lot. They were parked crooked, it had to be them. Hunched over, he noticed that Eric wasn’t wearing shoes again.

“Aren’t you cold? The pavement out here is—“

Stiles stumbled over his feet at the sight of the monster standing over him. Seeing the look of terror on his face, Eric forgot about his hunger and retracted his fangs.

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you. I’m just hungry, that’s all.”

“You’re…a vampire?”

Eric nodded innocently at the accusation. There was no denying it now, not after almost draining Stiles of his blood. Eric extended a hand offering to help him to his feet but Stiles was too in shock to react. Sure he was already living in a world where werewolves and kanima’s exist but he wasn’t sure he was ready to believe that some monsters weren’t just horrific fantasies of the film industry.

He took the hand and stood to his feet. Looking Eric in the eyes he could see something there, something almost childlike. While he might be a killer with fangs that could probably tear through his flesh in a matter of seconds, Eric wasn’t a dangerous. Even after nearly being his dinner, there was a gut feeling that wasn’t afraid.

“Since you almost made me into a happy meal, do you mind bringing the bags inside?”

Eric reached over and grabbed the bags peeking inside a few to see what Stiles had brought home.

“Oh. I guess I kinda wasted my time with this stuff huh? I don’t suppose you’d know where I could get you some blood?”

Eric looked up wide eyed.

“Some that was voluntarily drawn.”

** ζ **

Isaac snuck out of Vincent’s window while he was sleeping. He’d been staying at his apartment for a few days and was starting to feel like a nuisance. Vincent would never say anything; he was too nice a guy. But Isaac knew. He could always tell.

Vincent lived on the fifth floor of his building and lucky for Isaac they had a fire escape. He was confident with his abilities that if it was a drop down into the alley, he would have made it but that wasn’t a risk he was willing to take.

Before he made it the three feet from the bed to the window, Isaac grabbed one of the photographs Vincent kept tacked on the bulletin board. It was a picture of him and Camden over in Iraq. He wasn’t sure why he grabbed the picture. He wanted to say it was because his brother was in it but a part of him knew that that wasn’t true. Isaac wanted a memento, a piece of Vincent’s life that he could hold onto. He liked feeling connected to people, even if by a tiny little thread.

Jumping of the bottom of the fire escape to the damp alley, he took another look at the photo. He smiled to himself before he slid it into his inner pocket.

** ζ **

Stiles pulled up to the burned out collection of rubble that was the Hale house, killing the engine. He didn’t know much about vampires but he was hoping that Derek might. He had to. With all the information his family had, it was worth a shot. He still wasn’t sure how he was going to bring it up.

From the outside he couldn’t hear anything. Typically it was like that but sometimes he could hear Derek shuffling around inside. Tonight, he heard nothing. Dead silence. It seemed strange but he decided to go in anyway. He opened the door and stepped inside. On the steps he saw a pale young man reading silently, he didn’t even look up. Stiles immediately noticed a resemblance to the same vampire he had hiding out in his basement.

“Who are you?”

Stiles stood waiting on him to answer but he didn’t respond. He just turned a page, continuing to read a well-worn copy of A Midsummer Night’s Dream.

“Hey, I’m ta—“

“You know, I think this might be one of the best things Shakespeare ever wrote; imaginative, vibrant and a pretty accurate representation of people of the time. Did you know Puck was actually based on a vampire I knew? His name was actually Philip. Somehow Puck just stuck.”

Godric snapped the book closed and set it next to him on the step. He zipped over to Stiles and held out a hand.

“Godric. I’m a friend of Derek’s.”

Stiles was apprehensive but shook his hand. He was cold and had a firm grip. There was no way that he could a vampire. Not with his pale complexion.

“I didn’t know that Derek had friends. Especially not any friends that were vampires.”

Godric laughed at his remark.

“He was a lot more, let’s say, negotiable before. Derek hasn’t really been too friendly since Laura was killed.”

“You knew Laura?”

“Yes. We were all friends. I’ve known Derek since he was a young boy. He was a lot like he is now, full of rage and regret. I had hoped he would have learned to deal with loss by now, but I suppose he’ll always be who he is.”

Godric turned and looked at the state the house was in.

“He hasn’t really changed since the day I first met him. I can tell by the way he hasn’t fixed up this old house, still holding onto the fire that took his family away from him. Derek would always try to hide it from me but I could see it. The pain in his eyes. It’s something you can’t wash away.”

He sighed deeply.

“I don’t think I’d want him to change. If he did he would be the man I’ve come to love. He’d be someone else. Maybe that Derek would have a shot at being truly happy, without all these memories to hold him down.”

Stiles didn’t know what to say. He never knew that there was more to Derek. Maybe in the back of his mind be always knew that there had to be more under the surface, something that made him that way but he didn’t know he had so many layers.

“Can I ask you a question?”

Godric turned and nodded, walking into the study.

“Say for instance, I had a vampire that was hungry and needed some blood. Where could I get it from?”

“Are you talking about Eric?”

Stiles froze. He felt exposed, like he’d been caught hiding a stray cat in the house. It was essentially the same concept except it wasn’t a cat but instead a six foot five blonde Adonis.

“Uh…”

“Don’t worry. I’m not going to tell anyone, especially not Derek. Not that he’d want to talk to me right now anyway.”

“Why’s that.”

Godric paused thinking about his current situation.

“A long story really.” Godric smiled.

Stiles couldn’t help but smile back, his smile was infectious. It was hard to believe that someone as innocent and angelic as Godric could be a vampire. He was starting to wonder if all vampires were so good looking. Their good looks were starting to get to him.

“Just get him some true blood. He should be fine with that.”

“Some what?”

“True Blood. It’s a synthetic blood substitute. It’s not really the same thing but it will keep him fed.” Godric scribbled something down on a free piece of paper. “This place sells it. It’s just on the edge of town and they’re open twenty-four hours so you shouldn’t have a problem getting any at this time of night.”

Stiles looked over the address. He recognized it. It used to be an old adult film theatre before it was shut down years ago by a bunch of bible thumpers in the PTA.

“Thanks.”

“No problem. You should probably get going. Derek should be back some time soon. I’m sure he will want to pick up where we left off.”

Stiles wasn’t sure what he meant by that and he was absolutely positive he didn’t want to know. He nodded and raced out the door back to his jeep. There was some shopping he had to do and the less time he left Eric in the house with his dad, the better.

** ζ **

Isaac knocked on Scott’s door a few times before anyone came to answer it. He was taken by surprise when a tall gentleman with a scuffy beard and fairly long hair answered the door.

“Uh, is Scott here?”

Alcide looked him up and down.

“Yeah. Hold on.” He turned halfway towards the stairs behind him. “Hey Scott! You got a visitor!”

Isaac smiled half-heartedly.

“Thanks.”

Scott stopped at the bottom on the steps at the sight of Isaac standing in the doorway. He hadn’t seen him since the last day of school. Scott had to admit to himself if not anyone else, he was starting to get worried at how unreachable Isaac was becoming.

Alcide stepped aside walking back to the kitchen, leaving the two of them alone.

“Hey.” Isaac said.

He slipped both hands into his pockets. It was a nervous tick of his, always had been, ever since he was a child.

“Hey.” Scott stepped out onto the porch, shutting the door behind him. “What are you doing here?”

Isaac looked at his feet. His shoes were dirty from running around in the woods, mud caked on along the sides. He attempted chipping it off with his is other foot, trying not to make eye contact.

“I was wondering if I could maybe stay here for a little while. I think there’s a real estate agent trying to sell my place.”

 Scott watched him pick away at the mud, flicking it onto his porch. He knew that no one was at the Lahey’s house. Scott knew for a fact cause he’d been over there a few times looking for him. He’d had even gone over to Derek’s looking for him but he was nowhere to be found. Eventually he gave up looking. When people were that hard to find, it was for a reason.

“Yeah, of course. You’re always welcome here.” He glanced over his shoulder at the door. “You wanna come in? It’s kinda cold out here.”

Isaac nodded catching eyes with him. The two of them had an unspoken bond. He didn’t know what it was. Maybe it was a werewolf thing or perhaps something more human. Whatever it was, Isaac knew that he could count on Scott.

Scott led the way back into his house stopping in the living room, his uncle Alcide setting on the couch watching reruns of some old game on tv.

“My mom doesn’t like anyone to put their feet up on the table.”

Alcide shifted slightly, dropping his feet to the floor.

“This is Isaac. He’s going to be staying here for a while.”

Alcide looked over at him for a second and then back at the television. Scott couldn’t help but see his father in the motion. He never cared much about what Scott had to say when he was around either.

“Okay. We’re going to go upstairs then.”

“Don’t break anything when you two are having hardcore sex.”

Scott rolled his eyes and walked up the stairs. Isaac lingered for a moment taking in the sight.

“Isaac, you coming?”

“Yeah.”

Upstairs Isaac found Scott digging in the linen closet in the hallway.

“Is that your dad?”

“What? No! That’s my uncle Alcide.”

“Oh. You guys just look a lot alike.”

“Yeah, he’s my mom’s brother. She always said I took after her side of the family.” He thrust a blanket and some pillows at him. “I can’t believe you thought he was my dad.”

Scott laughed and walked to his room.

“Come on, it’s not that hard to believe.”

** ζ **

Derek found Godric sitting on the edge of what was left of his front porch when he got back, staring up at the stars.

“When I was a young boy, I used to look up at the stars and wish for a better life. I wanted more than anything not to end up like the other people around me; a slave for the rest of my life, eventually dying of some disease or being killed for trying to escape. I guess I got my wish huh? I was bought by a roman. I was his prized possession, a boy that didn’t speak the native tongue. I couldn’t tell him no in a way that he’d understand. He liked that, someone that couldn’t refute his advances.”

Godric jumped down and sat on the ground with his legs folded, still looking up at the night sky. It was in a way of longing, as if he was soaking in the last view he would have.

“He waited until I was sixteen to turn me. I remember everything about it. He covered my mouth to muffle my screams. I remember everything slowly fading away as he drained the life from me and buried himself with me. The next night I woke up a vampire. I stayed with him for a few hundred years, learning everything I could; how to hunt without being caught, how to blend into society, different languages that he’d memorized over the years. I learned everything he knew and then one evening after we fed on a few men coming from a bath house, I gave him the true death. There was an instant feeling of satisfaction in taking what little life he had. After everything he did to me, he deserved it.”

Godric grabbed his shoulder, the spot where his tattoo was. The mark of ownership he’d carried around for the last two thousand years.

“But some vampires didn’t see it that way. They came after me. So I fled. I fled north, fearing that returning back to my home country of Gaul would result in my death. The best place to look for me would be familiar territory right? I opted for somewhere unknown. It was bloody and ferocious. A land littered with war and death, it made my feeding less noticeable. That’s where I found him, my son. Eric. He was a fierce warrior. Eric had a fiery spirit that led him through battle, conquering all his enemies. And his loyalty, it knew no bounds. That’s why I chose him. I came to him when he was on the brink of death and I offered him my companionship. I asked him if he wanted to be like me and live forever; to have the speed and power and ferocity of a god. There was no question in his mind. He accepted and the two of us were inseparable. I taught him like my maker taught me; how to walk within the human world and our world, what it truly meant to be a vampire. He is my legacy. I just hope he can learn from my mistakes.”

Derek stepped a little closer to him, kneeling down to look him in the eyes.

“Why are you telling me this? Why now?”

A drop of blood crept down his pale face.

“I don’t know. I’m just feeling particularly nostalgic tonight I guess.” He wiped the tear from his eye with a sniff.

Derek looked his face with remorse. He felt guilty for yelling at him the way he did when he stormed out. There weren’t words to express his regret.

He opened his mouth but Godric stopped him.

“I know Derek. You don’t have to say it.”

Derek was always surprised on how he could read his mind. That there were words he never had to say because Godric already knew exactly what he was feeling.

Godric leaned forward and brushed his cold lips onto Derek’s. Derek felt a shock to his nervous system from the confliction between their body temperatures but chose to ignore it. His hands instinctively reached up cupping Godric’s face, pulling their bodies closer together.

Godric gripped his hand, pulling back. Their head pressed together. Derek looked at Godric but he wasn’t looking back, he just stared at the ground. He watched as another tear rolled down his face. Derek padded a thumb over his cheek, wiping that blood onto his palm.

He didn’t know what to say, this was the first time he’d ever seen Godric cry. Hell it was the first time they’d ever kissed. Derek didn’t even know that Godric felt the same way he or at least knew about his feelings. He couldn’t be surprised considering he was so good empathetic to all his other emotions. Godric acted first. He lifted his lips and kissed Derek’s forehead gently, standing to his feet.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered and just like that he was gone.

Derek knew he could try and catch him but he never would. He was just too fast. The two of them used to play tag every once and a while and no matter how hard he tried, Derek could never catch him. Maybe it was his lean physique or his thousands of years practice; either way, he was unreachable once his feet got moving.

He stared off in the direction the vampire disappeared in feeling a sinking feeling in his chest. Derek wanted him to come back but he knew in his heart that their paths were not destined to cross again.

Derek swallowed the emotion he felt creeping it way out and stood to his feet. He clinched his fists in irritation.

“Come on out. I know you’re there.”

Peter stepped forward from the shadows of the trees, his hand stroking his chin.

“I didn’t want to intrude. I could see you and your little friend were having a heart to heart. It wasn’t my place to break that up.”

“What do you want?” Derek said through his teeth. He wasn’t in the mood for Peter’s games, not tonight.

“I just thought you might want to know about the number of animal attacks that have been reported over the past few weeks.”

Derek raised his eyebrows, coaxing him to continue.

“Twenty-seven.”

“That is abnormally high.”

“Oh, no. Those are just the survivors. They got away with scratches and a few broken bones. No, there’s been thirty-seven animal related deaths. Twenty-three murders. And, oh this is my personal favorite, seventeen grave desecrations.”

Derek scratched the back of his head trying to work through the information that Peter was spewing at him. He’d heard about the increase of animal mauling’s but he had no idea they were that high. And the other stuff, this was all new territory.

“Look Derek, I know I’m not your favorite person in the world right now. Considering the whole murder thing and then lying about it and then using you to come back to life and then the whole thing with Jackson—“

“Yeah, I get it. Your point?”

“We need each other. We need to stick together like a pack should. I mean you have whatever is left of your pack, which is, what? That kid with the curly hair?”

“Isaac. His name is Isaac.”

“Oh, good to know. The point is, our numbers are limited. And whatever it is that’s out there, it’s closing in and fast. So what do you say? Do we have a deal to work together?”

Peter held out his arm. Derek looked it over for a moment before grabbing it at the forearm and giving it a shake.

“Deal.”

Derek didn’t trust Peter but he was all he had. He was all the family he had left with Godric now gone. Even though he knew he couldn’t trust him, his knowledge was vast and that could be an asset against whatever was looming on the horizon. 


	6. He's a Mystery

Isaac lay stretched out on Scott’s bedroom floor staring at the ceiling. Lately he was finding it hard to get a good night’s sleep. Anytime he would nod off he would find himself jolted awake by a horrific nightmare drenched in his own sweat. They always ended the same, with him dying.

Isaac didn’t know how to take these dreams. Were they his subconscious trying to tell him something or just over active imagination getting him all worked up over nothing? It didn’t matter really, fact of the matter was, this was his third night without sleep and he was starting to notice dark circles under his eyes. He pulled out the photograph he had neatly tucked away in his jacket next to him. Isaac had spent a good deal of his sleepless hours staring at the photo he’d swiped of Vincent and Camden, particularly at Vincent.

Scott popped his head over the foot of his bed hovering over Isaac.

“What are you doing?”

Isaac jumped. He didn’t know that Scott was awake. The sudden intrusion on his private moment made him feel a little exposed. Even though it was just Scott, it still kind of felt weird.

“Nothing.” Isaac replied, quickly shoving the picture under his pillow.

“Right. You know putting that under your pillow looks a lot worse than simply telling me what you were looking at.”

He had a point. Isaac hated that.

“It’s just a picture of my brother Camden.”

“Let me see.”

Scott reached under him and pulled out a photo with a crease on one of the corners.

“Who’s this other guy?”

Isaac wasn’t sure he wanted to tell him. Acknowledging his presence to other people made him feel less close to him somehow. Like he was giving away a secret that he wanted more than anything to keep to himself, locked away from all the world to see.

“Just some guy that was in the military with my brother.”

“Right.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. I mean. Well…”

Isaac pushed up resting on his elbows. He wanted to know what Scott meant. While he’d only said one word, there were so many implications behind it; like he knew that Isaac had something that he was holding back.

“Well what, Scott?”

“Well, I think you might actually know this guy but you just don’t want to tell me.”

“Am I really that transparent?”

“Yeah.” Scott said with a snicker.

Isaac let out a sigh and sat up folding his legs. “When did you become so intuitive?”

“It’s a gift I guess.”

Scott flicked the picture back and slid off the bed to sit next to him, waiting for what he had to say.

“This guy right here, that’s Vincent. He was Camden’s best friend over in Iraq.  I was staying with him for a few days.”

“Why?”

Isaac paused. He didn’t really know why. There wasn’t a real reason that he wanted to stay there or a good excuse for that matter.

“I guess I just didn’t want to be alone. Derek seems to have his own stuff going on and you and Stiles are always together. I guess I just thought it was a good idea to go somewhere else for a change.”

Scott patted him on the shoulder.

“You’re always welcome to stay here, you know that. I don’t care what you think. My house is your house.”

Isaac turned to look at the boy sitting beside him. His face was sincere. If there was one thing he could always count on from Scott, it was honesty.

“Thanks.”

Scott gave his shoulder a shake.

“It’s what friends are for right?”

Scott looked back down at the picture Isaac had sitting in his lap.

“You seem to kinda have a thing for this guy.”

He paused for a moment. Isaac didn’t know exactly what it was he was feeling but he was intrigued by him. He had been ever since Vincent had come over after the funeral to pay his respects.

\--+--

Isaac had had a long day. People constantly walking over and giving him the sad eye, shaking his hand offering the condolences on his loss, bring over horrible food dishes that had to have been in some handbook somewhere label “Terrible food for the grieving family to attempt to choke down.” He’d just had enough.

His father hadn’t said a word to him since the morning. Isaac had to wake him up so they wouldn’t be late to the service. When he walked out of his room in that same suit he’d wore to his mother’s funeral, he couldn’t help but feel a certain sense of nostalgia. The house looked just the same as it did that day. Broken bottles of beer on the floor and his father passed out on the couch clutching what was left tightly to his chest, a small puddle of vomit drying on the carpet next to him.

It was still a good two hours before they had to be out of the house so he tried his best to clean up the mess that had been made the night before, careful not to disturb the sleeping giant that would no doubt yell at him for the state their home was in.

After cleaning up most of the vomit with a scrub brush he found tucked under the sink, he finally heard his father rise out of his drunken stupor. He didn’t say anything to him, he just stared at Isaac. His curly hair and innocent eyes that he inherited from his mother, he just wanted to soak in the sight. That is until he realized that the boy dutifully cleaning was not in fact his wife but the son she had left. All of his thoughts came rushing back to him at once, that today was the day of his eldest son’s memorial service and he still wasn’t dressed yet.

“Isaac…” He whispered weakly, wagging his finger for him to come closer.

When Isaac knelt down next to him he only received a firm swift backhand, his father ring cutting a tiny slit on his cheek.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” He roared stomping passed him to his room.

He listened as his father continued cursing him, calling him a failure and a miserable excuse for a son. That he wished Camden was still there and that he was the one that would have died instead. Isaac didn’t say a word. He simply continued scrubbing at the persistent stain on the rug, a stream of tears dropping from his face only to disappear in the dark fabric of his pants.

At the service Isaac did his best not to cry or show any emotion for that matter. He wanted more than anything to be swallowed up by the earth or worse yet, take Camden place in the hole in front of him. There was only so much that he could take and Isaac was barely holding it together. Looking around at all of the people that were there to pay their respects, he knew none of them really knew Camden and what it meant for him to be gone. That without him his family was starting to disintegrate into nothing.

Back at his house people came flocking over to talk to his father and tell them how sorry they were for his loss and how tragic it all was. Isaac just watched them all put on their fake faces and do the same old song and dance they did when his mother died. They were all liars, just grateful that it wasn’t their family or someone they cared about. Giving him their pity stares and apologies.

He hated it. The worst of them all was his father. The way that he pretended to be the honest grieving father that just missed his son, while in actuality he beat the other for things that he wasn’t responsible for.

Sometime during the revolving door of people he noticed one of them hanging on the outskirts picking at the sad buffet of food they had to offer, a man with sad eyes and an honest face. Isaac noticed the scar he had on the right side, not something that someone around Beacon Hills would have. At least not without someone reminding everyone where they got it.

He walked over to the table, the man immediately talking notice of his presence.

“I don’t know you.” Isaac said flatly.

“Excuse me?”

“I know everyone here except you. All of these people here are repeat visitors from the first time we had to do one of these things. I can tell you who brought every single dish and exactly what they said when they handed it to me but you. You, I don’t know.”

The man smiled at the ground, scratching at his brow.

“Ah, yeah. You wouldn’t. I’m a friend of you brothers, from uh, Iraq.” He held out a hand formally to introduce himself. “I’m Vincent Keller. And you must be Isaac. Your brother talked a lot about you.”

“That’s nice.” Isaac spat out.

He wasn’t in the mood for idle chitchat. Not today of all days. Vincent narrowed his eyes at his blunt remark. He could tell that there was something amiss about Isaac’s demeanor in the way that he was constantly looking around to keep a head count of who was still around, growing more worried by the dwindling amount he saw.

“Do you, maybe want to go for a walk? You look like you could use a break from…all of this.”

Isaac looked around before crooking his neck towards the back door.

The two of them walked the same block for over an hour, talking about everything but his brother. It was nice that he could finally get his mind off of things and just be a normal teenager, even if it was so short lived.

When they walked back passed his house again Isaac could see his father standing on the front steps.

“I better get back in there. I’m sure I have a whole bunch of stuff to put away. Plus my dad kinda looks pissed.”

Vincent brushed a finger over the cut on his cheek before he got a chance to turn away.

“You should put something on that. You don’t want a scar like this one. Trust me, I’m a doctor.”

Isaac could feel himself blushing a bit but didn’t want Vincent to see. He started back towards his house, looking back.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

\--+--

Isaac tossed the picture back at his jacket.

“He’s just a really nice guy. It’s nothing more than that.”

Scott could tell that that was all he was going to get, so he promptly dropped the subject.

“You know you could always just go over there and see him. You know, check up on him and see how the guy is doing.”

Isaac had to admit that he had a point. Plus he did need to go back and apologize for kind of just disappearing on him the way he did.

** ζ **

Isaac pushed the unmarked buzzer to Vincent’s apartment. It was kind of strange that he didn’t put his name on like the other people of his building considering how long it seemed like he’d been staying there. He tapped his foot on the concrete waiting for a response but got no answer. He buzzed again. Still no answer.

“He must he out.” He murmured to himself.

He turned on his heel nearly knocking over a man wearing a hood.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to do that.”

“It’s okay.” The man replied. “Do you know anyone in this building?”

Isaac looked at him again. He was wearing all black with his eyes covered by a hood. It was the kind of outfit someone would be wearing if they were going to rob somewhere, not just stroll around town in.

“Yeah.” He said cautiously.

The man nodded before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a handkerchief. He wrapped his arms around Isaac, pinning the cloth over his nose forcing him to inhale. Isaac tried to fight back but felt weak. Something in the odorless substance was sapping his strength. He could feel his eyes starting to close. Behind him he could hear a van screech up to the sidewalk and a door slide open. Isaac felt his legs drag on the cement as they pulled him closer to the unmarked vehicle.

“Hey!” A voice called from down the street.

The hooded man hopped into the van and pulled off before the man could catch up to them, leaving a woozy Isaac lying on the ground. Alcide crouched down to lifted his head up, shaking him vigorously to keep him awake.

“Hey. Kid stay with me.”

But he was too far gone. The last thing he saw was flashing eyes before the world went dark around him.


	7. Dust

Stiles liked visiting his dad down at the station. It was like their special time to bond. He’d bring him dinner and the two of them would eat it in his office. Stiles particularly liked it because it was his chance to get a look at all the cases he was working on. The Sheriff had finally gotten hip to Stiles poking around his work he’d leave on the table, so he stopped bringing it home. So dropping by his office was really his only opportunity to snoop around.

Stiles had called his Dad when he was on his way over. He explicitly told him, no health junk. Stiles, of course, didn’t listen. When he wasn’t around his dad could eat whatever he wanted but if the two of them were going to eat together, it had to be health conscious.

This time he’d stopped by a deli near their house and picked up veggie burgers and salad. It goes without saying that the Sheriff wasn’t happy with what Stiles dropped down on his desk.

“Stiles, what is this?”

“That is a salad. You have seen a vegetable before haven’t you?”

His dad looked up at him in irritation. He didn’t appreciate his snarky attitude.

“Yes Stiles. I know what a vegetable is. It’s those things I could never get you to finish when you were a kid.”

“Well, I was wrong and now we’re going to enjoy them together. Now finish your salad or you can’t have any dessert.”

Stiles smiled back smugly at his dad that forced a forkful in his mouth, chewing angrily.

“So what are you working on?”

“Stiles, you know I have told you a thousand times. I can’t discuss classified information with you.”

“Aw, come on. Just a little peek…”

He lifted the edge of one of the folders closest to him with the end of his fork only to have it smacked closed by a hand coming from the other end of the table.

“No Stiles.”

Stiles slumped back in his chair biting into his burger in frustration.

“Well can you at least tell me that you’re making progress?”

The Sheriff tossed his fork into the bushel of lettuce in front of him, wiping his hands on his pants. He walked around the length of his desk and closed the door. Snapping the blinds closed he turned back to Stiles, he was curiously watching his every movement.

“If I tell you anything, it is NOT to leave this room. Understand me?”

“Scouts honor.” He said through a mouthful of food, mimicking the sign of a scout pledge.

The Sheriff sigh immediately regretting what he was about to do and handed him the manila folder in the center of his desk.

“The problem we’re having is connecting all of the events; the animal attacks, the murders, the grave desecrations. It just doesn’t add up.”

Stiles peered at the papers, looking over the numerous photos of people with limbs torn off and claw marks dug into flesh; graves that had been dug up and pieces missing. If he didn’t know any better he would have chalked it all up to a pack of werewolves but there were some things that were out of the ordinary. The grave desecrations were the piece that didn’t fit. Sure a wolf could easily dig up a grave if they wanted, they had firsthand experience with it when an omega came to town but the question was why? It doesn’t fit the usual motives. Not to mention to massive body count. Werewolves were known for keeping a pretty low profile so why up the attacks now? What was their reasoning?

“What?”

“Huh?” Stiles said looking up.

“You’re looking at that stuff like you know something I don’t. Do you see a connection?”

“No.” His voice trailed off at the end as he looked closer at the locations of the attacks. Maybe there was some sort of significance there. The only thing he could see was the spacing of the dates, three days apart, each one.

The Sheriff sat back behind his desk letting out a sigh. He ran a hand over his chin, the scruffy hair pricking under his fingers. With all the work he’d been doing he barely had the time to shave this morning. Stiles could tell from the disheveled clothing that he’d slept at the office last night. With the department being as short staffed as they were at the moment from Matt’s killing spree, his dad was pulling double shifts just to cover the time people needed to be there.

“Dad, when was the last time you slept?”

He kept stroking his chin, lost in thought.

“Dad.”

“Huh? Oh, I don’t know Stiles. They just all seem to be running together. I’m fine.” He glanced at his watch taking in what time it was. “Why don’t you head home? I’m sure you have better things to do than to be sitting around in my office all summer.”

Stiles nodded in compliance. Truth was he did have other things to do. Like going back out to the sketchy market on the other side of town to get more True Blood for the vampire he had hiding out in his basement. He grabbed his jacket and turned the knob, looking back at his father that had already started poring over the case files littering his desk. He didn’t say anything. He just watched him diligently at work as he stepped out into the hallway and exited the station.

As he walked out the door onto the street he bumped into an unknown figure.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t looking where I was—hey! It’s you.”

Stiles recognized him immediately, it was Godric. He was in all white and wearing some shoes that looked like they were from the seventies. His first thought was he had to be cold but then he remembered that he was already dead so being cold probably wasn’t on the top on his list of priorities.

“What are you doing here?”

Godric looked around taking in his surroundings.

“I hadn’t realized where I was actually. I was just walking around.”

“Oh.” Stiles jingled the keys in his pocket. “I know this is probably a really stupid question but, did you need a ride back to Derek’s? I’m actually going that way.”

“No that won’t be necessary. I don’t think he really wants to see me right now anyway.”

“Oh did you guys fight again? Don’t feel bad, you should know more than anyone how he gets.”

Godric smiled shuffling his feet. Stiles could tell that there was something on his mind in the way that his smile melted away in an instant.

“Well, if I can’t give you a ride would you at least like some company on your walk? I’m not really doing anything right now.”

Godric pursed his lips to protest but quickly decided against it.

“Sure. Why not.”

The two of them walked around town for hours talking about stupid things, like what was the best pizza topping and random history facts that Stiles had been studying over the summer for his SATs, until they finally ended up on the roof of an abandoned building a few blocks away from the police station. Stiles looked at the time on his phone realizing that it was close to sunrise.

“You do know that the sun will be up soon right? Isn’t that like really bad for you guys? I don’t really know the protocol when it comes to that. Do you like die or do you twinkle like they do in twilight?”

Godric’s shoulders pounced with a chuckle.

“We burst into flames.”

“Oh. Fun. That doesn’t sound too pleasant.”

“I don’t imagine it is.”

Stiles watched him unbutton his shirt and toss it onto the gray rooftop underneath them. He stood still and patient waiting for the sun to inch its way over the horizon, his end finally being within reach.

“Godric you don’t have to do this.”

“No. But I want to do this. It’s funny. I always thought that when I would be afraid but I actually find that I’m…relieved.”

He reached down to his torso and pulled out a small leather bound book he had tucked inbetween the waistband. Running a hand over the cover, he thought about all of the times he wrote in it. The painful memories, the good times that he never wanted to forget. For a vampire, keeping a diary was unorthodox to say the least but Godric always felt that it made him more human. To keep a physical connection to the world that he’d walked for so many years, it meant a lot to him.

Godric turned and handed to book to Stiles, placing his small hand on its cover.

“I want you to have this.”

“No-no I couldn’t.”

“I insist. I want someone to learn from my experiences and who better yet than a human boy with all his life ahead of him. Take it.”

Stiles took to book from him clutching it in both hands. The leather felt nice on his fingers, he could tell that it had been taken care of over the years.

“It won’t be long now. I can smell the daylight coming.”

“Godric, there has to be a way that I can talk you out of this. You can’t just kill yourself like this. I mean, think of Derek. Whoa. I can honestly say that I never thought I would ever use that conjunction of words ever in my life.”

Godric kept his back turned to the boy, smiling to himself.

“Derek doesn’t need me anymore. He doesn’t realize it now but he will. He thinks that he has to save everyone but what he doesn’t understand is that there are some people that don’t want to be saved. I have been around a long time Stiles. I’ve seen a lot of things; war, pain, hunger, happiness, love. Things that I can’t experience anymore, because I’m no longer human. Vampires have no place in this world. We’re dead. We feed off of the life that humans have just so that we can survive. There are some of us that are willing to merge and blend into human society but there are those that would see that it never happen.”

Godric shook his head with a laugh.

“I feel like this is a much longer story that I’m alluding to but there isn’t enough time to tell.” He looked over his shoulder at the confused boy behind him. His eyes were cloudy like the sky before rain. Godric would see the sorrow he was starting to feel for him.

“Don’t feel bad for me Stiles. I have done horrible things in my life and this, this is my penance.”

Stiles took a few steps forward and clapped a hand on his shoulder giving it a gentle shake.

“I’m sure you’re being a lot harder on yourself than you deserve.”

Their eyes met as Godric placed his hand on Stiles’.

“You know, you’re a lot more like Derek than you think. You like to see the good in people despite your rough exterior. That wit of yours, it’s how you keep people at a distance; don’t do that. Let them in Stiles. You might be surprised what you find when you do.”

Stiles sighed biting his lip.

“You know, you could have really had a good career as a politician.”

The two shared an awkward laugh as the sun started to come up, reflecting off the windows of a building in front of them.

“Take care of yourself Stiles and don’t be so hard on Derek or Eric for that matter. They’ll both need someone when I’m gone.”

Stiles moved backwards holding the journal tightly in his hand. He didn’t know what he meant by what he said. What did he know about Eric? Did he know more than he was letting on about everything?

The sun pooled over the flat surface of the building hitting Godric’s pale form and igniting in an azure flame. Stiles watched as the not so young boy in front of him burned in front of him, until, he was gone. Dust blowing in the wind. He glanced down at the leather parcel in his hand, examining it again and noticing a symbol engraved on the cover. Something about it looked familiar. Now he was wishing he’d noticed beforehand so he could ask him what it meant.

Stiles reached into his pocket pulling out his keys with a yawn. It was well past his usual bedtime. All he was looking forward to now was a good nights sleeps, hoping his dreams wouldn’t be filled with nightmares of a man on fire. How was he supposed to sleep after witnessing something like that?


	8. Picking Up the Pieces

Lydia opened her compact to check her lipgloss. To here there was nothing worse than having her makeup askew in public. She had to have some pride in herself right? Right. At least that’s her take on the situation. She straightened out her skirt and stepped out of the car, the sound echoing in the parking garage.

“You coming Allison?”

Allison sighed into the visor mirror snapping it closed. She had no idea how Lydia had talked her into getting out of the house, she didn’t really feel like going anywhere. Maybe that was the perfect reason for her to go.  Allison had been cooped up in the house with her father all summer doing just about everything but studying. The two of them had already boxed up her mother’s stuff, cleaned out the basement, cleaned out the garage and she had taken the extra initiative to organize the attic.

When Lydia called her she was more than hesitant to answer. They hadn’t really spoken since the whole, I kind of tried to kill your boyfriend thing. She was starting to think that they weren’t going to see each other until they got back to school, which she was really dreading. It was hard enough living with herself after what she’d done but dealing with that in an enclosed environment like school was somehow less desirable than cleaning out her mother’s closet.

“So, tell me again what we’re doing at the mall?”

“Well Allison, we’re here to shop which is what people typically do at the mall. In case you forgot that during your brief lapse of sanity.”

Allison was starting to regret leaving the house.

“Look, I only agreed to come with you to the mall so we could talk about what happened and maybe get over it. Not be berated by you all day.”

“Oh please, like I’d still be thinking about that. Water under the bridge Allison, water under the bridge.”

It was what she wanted to hear but somehow she still didn’t find the words comforting. They walked into Lydia usual one stop shop when it came to buying a new outfit, Macy’s. Allison, while not being in the mood to shop, did feel a certain comfort of somewhere familiar.

Lydia stopped abruptly turning the tips of her toes to lock eyes with Allison.

“Can you tell me why your ex is over there?” She asked pointing over to the bedding.

“I don’t know. Coincidence? I haven’t seen him since the breakup.”

“Weird. Well, just go over there and get the awkward first encounter out of the way. It’s better to just rip the bandage off.” She said pushing over in his direction.

Allison looked back at Lydia waving with a smile, walking over to the woman’s section.

“Okay Allison. You can do this. It just Scott.”

She inhaled reassuring herself and walked over to him. Scott was looking down at a new set of bed sheets not noticing her creep up behind him.

“Hi Scott.”

He turned around talking in the sight of her standing awkwardly clutching her arm for comfort.

“Allison. What are you doing here?”

“Oh, I-I came here with Lydia.” She said gesturing back to the girl going through the racks of clothes, pulling anything that caught her eye. “You know how she likes to shop. What are you doing here?”

“I’m just picking out some new sheets for the guest room. My mom asked me to get some before she left.”

“How is she doing?”

“Good, considering. She was really excited about getting out of town for a little while. I think she really needed it to be honest.”

A few moments of silence passed between them. Allison wasn’t sure what she was supposed to say to him. This was uncharted territory. When they were together the time they spent quiet didn’t feel uncomfortable at all, it was just time they spent together. Now it was as something that stood between them, an obstacle that was blocking them from moving forward.

Allison shifted her weight back and forth from each leg until finally deciding to leave and find Lydia with her collection of things to try on.

“I guess I’ll see you around then.” He called to her.

She gave him a weak smile and turned a corner putting an end to the misery that she was sure they both were feeling. Anytime she thought about Scott she would feel hollow, a series of knots being tied in her chest. There was a part of her that wanted to just stay and hold his hand letting all of the emotions rush back over her but there was another part of her that gave into reason.

Allison found Lydia waiting for her by the dressing rooms with a few dresses already picked out for her to try on.

“I see you didn’t waste time.”

Lydia scoff at the thought of her waiting any time when it came to shopping.

“Or course not. Try these on. I think the lavender one is really you. Goes with the whole fair skin thing you’ve got going on.”

Allison rolled her eyes and stepped into the dressing room. She pulled on dress after dress until she found one that she actually liked.

“Is there a reason we’re picking out dresses?”

Lydia finally gave in admitting that her motives for getting to come were less than noble.

“Fine. You’ve twisted my arm. My cousin is coming to town to stay with us. I want to you to come to dinner with us. I don’t want to be alone with her anytime during the whole evening.”

“Why?”

“I can’t stand her little ‘I’m a girl from a small town’ routine. I swear she only puts it on to make me look bad by comparison. Not that I could ever look bad.” She said smiling at herself in the mirror, the outfit she picked out fitting her perfectly in all the right places. “I just need someone there Allison. I think you at least owe me that.”

Lydia unlocked the door walking out to stand in front of the larger mirror that showed all angles.

“Now come on out and show me which one you picked.”

Allison walked out of the tiny room shyly in a lavender dress that fell just short of her knees. It synched at the waist and had an asymmetrical cut in the chest to expose her cleavage.

“I don’t know about this one. I think it shows off a bit much in… _this_ area.” She said gesturing at her breast.

“Don’t be ridiculous, it looks great. We both look great. These are definitely the ones.” She said looking into the mirror to give herself a wink.

\--

Allison was feeling pretty uncomfortable at dinner. Lydia made he sit between her and her cousin Jessica. She was a pretty girl; Jessica definitely had a Martin family resemblance, long strawberry blonde hair that fell in curls on both sides of her face and fair skin that even Allison had to envy. Jessica was even polite and courteous to Lydia’s parents, which was why she couldn’t figure out why Lydia hated her so much.

 To say the tension was palpable would be an understatement, she could practically taste it. Lydia spent most of the night directing subtle barbs her way while Jessica simply sat in silence. Allison almost felt sorry for the poor girl. She didn’t seem to have much of a backbone when it came for sticking up for herself, it was something she could identify with.

Sometime before dessert she pulled Lydia to the side.

“Do you think you could maybe lay off a little? You’re being kind of harsh.”

“You know nothing about her Allison, she’s a vicious liar. Don’t be fooled by her innocent girl routine, she’s a real bitch.”

Allison was sure that she was just going to have to take her word for it. She tried to make it through the rest of dinner but found that she couldn’t muster the strength to stay. She promptly excused herself, telling Lydia that would call her tomorrow and scurried out to her car.

Sitting in the driver’s seat she clutched the steering wheel with both hands. She sighed turning the key in the ignition trying to think of anything but what was really on her mind, Scott. She pulled out of the driveway and drove home hoping that getting some sleep she could get him off her mind but she knew that wouldn’t be possible. If anything she would dream of him tonight, of when they were together and how happy and carefree she was before everything happened. Before she lost her innocence and started down the path she was destined to travel, the life of a hunter. The birthright of an Argent.

\--

Allison left the house early the next morning, trying not to wake her father. The less questions he asked, the better. It was better he didn’t know what she was up to and if Allison were being honest with herself, she really needed the alone time.

She pulled up to the sports good supply store just as they were opening. If she got there this early there was a good chance of her not seeing anyone that she knew coming in to get lacrosse equipment for the next season.

Walking inside she walked straight to the archery section and grabbed a few bundles of arrows. Buying new ones was a better idea than her taking some from the supply they kept hidden away in the house. That her father would notice. Allison paid for her supplies and left in a hurry. She tossed them in the back with her bow and drove to the outskirts of town, to the place where she and Scott spent her last birthday. It was quiet and secluded, somewhere she wouldn’t be seen.

Allison loaded her bow and took aim at the furthest tree away. She released and the tree at the center of its base. Quickly reloading, she fired another. And another. And another. Until she’d made a straight line stretching up horizontally. She panted short quick breaths trying to catch up with her elevated heart rate. She missed this. Just her and a bow, firing shot after shot until her arms got tired.

Allison walked over and pulled an arrow out of the tree, collecting so she could load up to fire at a more distant target, something harder to hit. Just then she heard a twig snap somewhere behind her. She turned sharply looking for the culprit but saw no one in sight. Loading her bow she positioned herself for fire, ears perked for any sudden movements.

A rustling to her left sent an arrow piercing through the bark or a nearby tree just missing whoever was out spying on her.

“You know, if your reaction time was just half a second quicker, you might have hit me.”

She pulled back aiming at the disembodied voice.

“I don’t miss twice.” She shouted, her voice echoing off in the distance.

There was no one in sight until, a built man looking to be in his late twenties stepped out from behind a tree, hands up in surrender. He was wearing running clothes, so he clearly wasn’t a threat to her. Probably just some jogger out in the woods looking for the same seclusion she was.

“I’m sorry.” She said lowering her bow. “I guess I’m just a little on edge.”

“I can see that. The way you pretty much murdered that tree there.”

Allison laughed. It was probably the first time she could remember laughing in weeks. It felt good to genuinely laugh again.

“So what are you doing out here Legolas?”

She scratched her head looking for an excuse, looking him over again. Though he might be a stranger, there was no telling if he knew her dad. Being a hunter, he had a lot of connections and it was best for her to play safe than sorry.

“I-I was just practicing. I’ve been a little rusty so I thought I’d come out here and—“

“Fire a few into a tree. I get it. Takes the edge off doesn’t it.”

Allison shrugged. Sure it took the edge off but she wasn’t going to let him know that. He didn’t need to know; as far as she was concerned, her motives where purely innocent in nature.

“Yeah, I guess. Well that explains why I’m out here. What is someone like you doing way out here?”

“Someone like me?” He mocked with a smirk.

“I mean a jogger. I’ve never really seen anyone out this far.”

“I like to keep a low profile so I go where the people are not. Makes things so much simpler.”

He looked at the digital watch on his wrist still running numbers tracking his time.

“Oh crap, I need to get going. I’m supposed to be meeting someone soon.” He turned his hips slightly to run in the opposite direction before looking down at the bow in her hands. “You might want to consider something a bit small. Easier to carry around.” He said with a wink.

Allison nodded without a word.

“I guess I’ll see you around...”

“Allison.”

“Oliver.”

She watched him dash off, the leaves crunching and kicking up with traction. Looking down at the bow in her hands she took his words into consideration. Maybe it was time to think more compact. It would make sneaking out of the house a lot easier.


	9. a Journal, a Secret

Stiles pressed his fingers on his house keys as he climbed the porch steps. He stared at the journal Godric gave him, the well-worn faded pages bound in a leather cover, a thing strap wrapping around to keep it closed. Stiles’ first thought was that it looked very expensive but to a vampire he was sure that money wasn’t much of an object.

He threw his head back yawning wide, water welling in his eyes from lack of sleep. Whatever was inside he was going to have to find out later. The first thing he was going to do was get some sleep. Stiles walked inside and went straight to his room. He put the bottles of true blood in the newly acquired mini fridge in the corner of his room. The last thing he needed was to explain to his dad what the hell true blood was and why he had such a massive quantity.

Stiles flopped onto the bed letting his feet dangle off the edge. He was so exhausted he couldn’t even change clothes. He watched the time on his digital clock slowly tick minutes away, his eyelids getting heavier with every moments passing until he saw nothing but darkness.

** ζ **

Isaac rolled over and fell onto the floor, shocking him away. Looking around frantically he realized he was in Scott’s living room. He rubbed his head feeling a bruise forming under the skin, it would heal but it still hurt. Moving around for something to grab onto, Isaac pulled himself to his feet. His socks caught as he dragged himself to the kitchen for something to drink.

The light hit his eyes making him squint at the sudden adjustment of light. Sitting on the counter was Alcide, sipping silently from a mug of what he assumed was coffee from the smell that filled his nose.

“How’s your head?” He asked talking a sip from his cup.

His voice was low and scratchy like he’d been up drinking all night. Isaac could remember his father talking to him after an all-night bender with the same tone of voice. The only difference was that his words weren’t as kind.

Isaac stumbled a step catching himself on the edge of the island in the middle of the room.

“I’m still a little bit woozy but I think I’ll be alright. What happened anyway?”

Alcide opened the cabinet behind him pulling out another mug, filling it with a fresh brew. He handed the cup to Isaac, their hands grazing slightly as he took a seat at the table next to him. Isaac scooped in a few spoonfuls of sugar before taking a huge gulp. He smacked the mug down on the table choking on the strength of the brew sliding down his through.

“Oh my god!” He coughed between breaths. “What is that?”

“It’s my own special blend. It’ll put some hair on your chest.”

“I melt a hole in my stomach.” He coughed, racing over to the sink to get the taste out of his mouth.

Alcide couldn’t help but laugh him trying to bend over enough to get enough water in his mouth to swish around a few times then spit out. Isaac turned off the faucet turning to the man shaking with laughter next to him.

“Ha ha. Very funny.”

The more he tried to stop the harder he would laugh.

“I-I’m sorry kid. That’s just too funny. I didn’t know you couldn’t handle your coffee. Maybe I’ll warn you next time.”

Isaac rolled his eyes dumping out the rest down the drain. He opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water, flicking the lid at Alcide for his merciless taunting. While he was kind of a jerk, Isaac did owe him for saving his life.

“Okay, so what do _you_ remember?” Alcide lifted his hand to his face in the shape of a pyramid, mimicking a detective.

“Well, last thing I remember was talking to some guy in a hood and then, nothing. Everything goes blank.”

                “That’s where I found you. I ran those guys off that were trying to abduct you. Lucky for you I was in town running a few errands. Do you have any idea why they would want to take you?”

                Isaac looked at the back of his hand watching the veins fluctuate back and forth. Of course there was a reason they would want him but he had no clue how they could have found out what he was. He had been extra careful to stay out of the line of sight, to keep away from human when he turned. They had to have been hunters; it was the only option that made sense.

                “No. There isn’t a reason I can think of why anyone would want me for anything?”

                Alcide slid a hand onto his shoulder.

                “Don’t sell yourself short kid, I’m sure there’s something you know that you don’t even know you know. You know?”

                “No?” Isaac answered confused.

                “Let’s try a different approach. Who were you going to see? You were standing outside of an apartment building. You had to have known someone there right?”

                “Yeah but he didn’t answer. I don’t even think he was there.”

                Alcide stroked at his beard, his eyebrows tight in thought.

                “Maybe there’s more to this person you were going to see than you think. I’d hate to see you fall in with the wrong crowd of people.”

                “I wouldn’t worry about that, I don’t think he’s that kind of guy. He was a doctor.”

                Alcide hopped off the counter with a sigh, his boots thumping onto the ground with a thud.

                “Sometimes people we think we know, we find out we don’t really know at all.” He gave him a pat on the back and exited to room.

Isaac listened to him climb the stairs, thinking about what he said. Maybe he was right. After all, he hadn’t known Vincent very long. What if there was more to the story about his secret than he was letting on? If there was, Isaac was definitely going to find out.

** ζ **

When Stiles finally opened his eyes again, the first thing he saw was Eric looming over him, fangs extended.

“What the hell?!” He screamed.

Eric stepped back snapping his fangs back into their normal state, hidden from the rest of the world.

“I…” He paused “I had a bad dream.”

“Okay. Well that still doesn’t explain why you keep trying to bite me! Come on!”

Eric stepped back further to the open door behind him. Stiles sighed looking at the earnest look on his face.

“Fine. Tell me all about it.” He said patting the spot next to him on the bed.

There was a part of him that knew that he would regret it but his empathy weighed out. Eric was hurting and he needed someone to listen. When his mom died he had trouble opening up to anyone to talk about how he was feeling, which might amount to his current level of emotional constipation.

Eric slid onto a tiny square at the end of the bed trying not to get closer than he needed too. After his display of a lack of control, it was best he keep his distance, at least for now. Stiles was sarcastic, opinionated and clearly had no fear of the supernatural; maybe it was a combination of those things, those individual traits, that drew him in. That made him want to be closer to him.

They stared at each other until Stiles couldn’t take it anymore.

“Are you going to tell me what your dream was about or not?” He snapped.

A stream of bloody tears started down Eric’s face.

“Oh, no don’t do that.” He looked around for something to wipe his face, finding a box of tissues on the ledge of his headboard. “Do all vampires cry blood?”

“Yes.” Eric gasped between sobs.

“Gross.”

Eric looked back at him.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean it that way.

“It’s okay. I just, I don’t know why I’m crying.”

“Well, people typically cry because they’re sad. I don’t know if it’s different for you guys or not but that’s usually why I cry.”

Eric rubbed his face over his face, smearing the streaks.

“In my dream I saw this man that looked familiar but I couldn’t recognize him. He looked more like a boy than a man really. He had these markings on his body and he was standing over me asking me to come with him. We walked for what seemed like forever until he let go of my hand and burst into flames right in front of me.”

He rubbed the back of his hand over his face again smearing a fresh layer onto his cheeks. Stiles’ hand hovered over his head before deciding to pat a soft hand, running his fingers through his hair. Eric responded to his touch nuzzling his head on Stiles’ thigh.

“I like being here next to you.” He mewed closing his eyes.

Stiles continued stroking his hair unsure on whether or not he should stop. He felt that he should be feeling uncomfortable but was surprised at the fact that he wasn’t. Lying on his bed stroking the hair of a vampire with amnesia and the innocence of a kitten, it wasn’t something that happened every day.

He reached behind his head and grabbed the journal he’d received from Godric the night before. Moving his hand to unwrap the leather bound pages he felt Eric stir. He shifted slightly, repositioning his head to look up at Stiles as he starting flipping through the fragile pieces of parchment.

“That book smells old.”

“I’m sure it is.” Stiles replied not looking down.

Everything that Godric had seen, had experienced was all in the pages in front of him. Century’s worth of knowledge at his finger tips and he couldn’t read a word of it.

“Of course.” He sighed, flipping page after page.

“What?”

“None of the earlier entries in this journal are in English. It’s some old language. I don’t even know what this is.”

Eric sat up taking the journal from him.

“May I?”

“Be my guest.”

Eric looked at the pages, his eyes growing wide in disbelief.

“I recognize this. This is Swedish.”

“I read Swedish?”

“Det är mitt modersmål.”

“And you speak it too. Of course. Well, what does it say?”

“The handwriting is a little faded but I think I can still make it out:

_I followed the soldier in their journey by nightfall; feeding on the stray men they left behind to die a slow death. Their quest for honor and glory can only be matched by their lust for bloodshed. It is marvelous. The men, they are strong and show no mercy but the other pale in comparison to their leader, a man whose loyalty and courage is unmatched. Eric. He has all the qualities I look for in a companion and if gods be good, maybe out paths will cross one day. But I fear that they will not._

“Holy shit.”

“What?” Eric asked confused.

“I think Godric was your father or whatever the vampire equivalent to a father is.”

“Well it would make sense considering the pages are in Swedish and I’m assuming you are from Sweden since you can read them. It would actually explain your dream too.”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you think…” He asked looking back at the pages sitting in his lap. “Do you think he might know anything? Maybe he could help me remember who I am?

 “Well,” Stiles paused. Eric looked at him with doe eyes, wide in anticipation of his next words. “I don’t know how to tell you this but, Godric is dead. He gave me that journal just before he went, poof. Into the wind.”

Eric slumped down a bit taking in the information.

“I’m so sorry Eric.”

Eric closed the book clutching it to his chest, sinking down into the mattress. He turned over exposing his back to Stiles. Stiles knew the feeling. When his mom died all he wanted to do was curl up in his bed and block out the world. There wasn’t anything in the world that could have filled the massive hole in his life that she left behind, but over time it got small. He learned to heal one day at a time.

“If this is what it feels like to remember…I hope I never get my memory back.”

“Don’t say that.”

Eric crooked his neck looking him in the eyes.

“I’d rather not know. I just want to start over without all the pain that comes with my old life.”

“You can’t just do that Eric. All of those things, they’re still a part of you. Those bad times also come with a lot of good. Those memories and experiences make you who you are. Without them, you’re only half of yourself.”

Eric turned his body back to Stiles, inching closer.

“Can I stay here until the sun comes up? I don’t want to be alone right now.”

“Sure.” Stiles said, his face turning up into a half smile. “One rule though, you keep your fangs to yourself.”

** ζ **

Stiles knocked on the worn door of Derek’s house waiting for a response. He thought it might be a good idea to drop by and talk to him, maybe see how he was doing since Godric wasn’t around. Stiles didn’t really know what to expect. He remembered after the police found Laura’s body he was pretty silent and focused on catching her killer but Godric’s death wasn’t an accident. It kind of changed the grieving process a bit.

He didn’t hear anyone inside so he just pushed open the door. If Derek was inside sulking he was going to break up his little broodfest. Stepping further inside he saw nothing but the usual décor or dust and ash and books scattered about, the only thing that looked different was the chase lounge. He noticed that it was broken. It wasn’t the last time he dared to venture into Derek Hale’s lair of doom, as he liked to call it. The guy had a habit of suffering in silence. Something he could identify with. The things that you keep to yourself can’t hurt anyone else. There was a certain nobility in that mentality.

“Hello?” His voice bounced off the walls into the darkness of the dimly lit house.

Stiles made sure to come by after the sun had gone down. To him it seemed like Derek’s peak hours of skulking, a perfect time to drop by and see how he was doing. After a few moments of silence he concluded that he wasn’t home. He walked over into the study, looking over the array of books scattered all over the table on the far side of the room. On top was a copy of _A Midsummer Night’s Dream._ He could guess from the books under it that the stack was a collection of Godric’s favorites. The fact that they looked undisturbed didn’t make him feel the least bit at ease. One of the last things Godric said was for him to reach out to Derek and right now he was feeling a failure in that department.

All of a sudden he heard a floor board creak behind him. At first he didn’t think anything of it seeing as how the house was in such a rundown state but he then remembered that while he was walking he didn’t hear one peep.

“Hello? Derek is that you?” Stiles paused for a response. “Great. Now you’re hearing things. What else could possibly be wrong with you Stilinski?” He mumbled to himself.

He turned back to the dusty books looking around for any clues about where Derek might have possibly gone when he felt a pain hit him across the side of his head. Stiles toppled over to the ground, vision blurry, trying to see what hit him. All he could make out was three figures standing over him. He blinked swiftly in an attempt to see his attackers.

The men wore all black. Two of them had long hair while the other didn’t have any. Stiles was trying to take a mental image just in case he needed to ID them to the cops later. One of the perks of being the Sheriff’s son was that no one really messed with you, clearly these guys didn’t know that.

The tallest one with a shaved head leaned over pulling him up by his shirt. He was so close that Stiles could smell his cheap aftershave.

“I’m assuming since you’re snooping around this dump you know Derek Hale. Where is he?”

“I-I don’t know.” Stiles managed to get out. His mouth didn’t seem to want to cooperate with his brain. Maybe it was the blow to the head.

The man struck his across the face, his claws lightly grazing the skin on his cheek.

“I’m going to ask you again. And this time, don’t. Lie. Where is Derek Hale?”

“I already told you. I don’t know.”

He raised his fist again to hit Stiles. This time he was prepared for the blow, lifting his hands to shield his face. Before he could make contact a blur rushed in front of him grabbing the man by his throat. He opened his eyes to see Eric standing in front of him, barefoot and wearing one of his hoodie that he’d left on his bedroom floor.

Eric squeezed on the man’s windpipe, causing him to kick his legs furiously in hopes of catching a few breaths of air.

“Eric, what are you doing here?”

Eric said nothing, he simply grunted as he pressed harder on the man’s throat. His comrades stood in stance, their claws and fangs extended; ready to rush Eric and release their leader. He extended his arms, giving them the signal to hold as Stiles stood to his feet.

Stiles placed a hand on the small of Eric’s back, reassuring him that he had nothing to worry.

“Eric, put him down. Please.”

He complied, placing the man back on his feet and releasing him from his grip. Their leader clutched his throat gasping for air, huffing out inaudible words with every breath.

“I see….you have….a vampire… on your side…”

As his friends tried to help him recover, Derek walked in leaving the door open behind him.

“What the hell is going on here?”

Both longer haired men lunged at Derek but were stopped midair by Eric, his hands buried into their backs. He retracted his hands pulling out their spines, dropping their on top of their lifeless bodies. Their leader, paralyzed in a state of fear was at a loss for witty comebacks.

Everything was happening so fast for Stiles, his eyes couldn’t keep up with what was happening. Eric turned back to the last remaining wolf of their small pack, his fangs extended as he let out a low growl.

Derek stood in awe. He hadn’t seen a vampire like Eric since Godric. The speed and ferocity of his movements were nothing sort of remarkable. The last time he’d seen anything like it was when he and a friend were jumped in a back alley when he was living in New York.

Eric placed a foot forward, snapping the man out of his trace. He quickly bolted out of the door. Eric motioned to follow him but was stopped by a hand on his arm.

“Don’t.” Stiles said, his eyes pleading for him to stop.

Eric snapped his fangs back into place turning to Stiles. He grazed a hand over the side of his face, gentle and apologetic.

“I didn’t want you to be out by yourself, so I followed you. I hope you’re not mad at me.”

Stiles smiled.

“No, I’m not. I think this is probably the first time I’m happy to have had a stalker following me around.”

Eric smiled wide. It was the first time Stiles had seen him with a happy expression on his face. It seemed as if every time they would talk about something, he would be morose or apologizing for something that he’d done. It was nice to see him happy; even if there were a few dead bodies in the room.

Suddenly he remembered Derek. He looked around Eric’s shoulder but he was gone; no doubt following after the wolf that got away.

“So much for why I came here.” He said throwing his hands in the air with a sigh.

Eric cupped Stiles face with both hands looking deep into his eyes. He pursed his lips placing a gentle kiss onto his forehead. Stiles placed his hands over Eric’s, feeling a sense of comfort with his touch. He quickly pulled away.

“Maybe we should get out of here before more of them show up.”

Eric nodded walking ahead of him back to Stiles’ jeep.

He watched Eric as he climbed into his jeep that was still unlocked. Stiles wasn’t sure what he was feeling but he was sure that it wasn’t okay. He couldn’t have feelings for a vampire. He was still unsure if they even felt anything at all, with the whole undead, heart not beating thing. Even if he was starting to feel something for Eric; what future could they possibly have? He was human. No matter how inadequate he felt in comparison to all the supernatural creatures that were running around Beacon Hills, that’s how he wanted to stay; a mortal in a world of beasts.

Stiles climbed into his jeep turning the key in the ignition. Eric sat silent looking out the window at all the foliage that passed as he drove back to his house. Whatever Stiles might be feeling he was sure that it wouldn’t turn out well.


	10. Guests

Derek ran full force following after the shadowy figure ahead of him. His feet thumped against the pavement as he shifted in pursuit of the intruder down the street. Derek took to all fours gaining speed, tackling his pray and pinning him to the nearest wall.

“Why were you looking for me?” He roared, his eyes pulsing red.

Derek typically liked to be in control of his emotions but something about these wolves coming into his house and attacking friends made him a little more than angry. He was seething, barely able to keep himself from tearing the man apart.

“Who sent you?” Derek growled through his teeth, smacking his body into the wall.

The man didn’t respond he just smiled, his teeth twinkling in the dim light of the dark alley. He started laughing, looking Derek right in his eyes. His apparent lapse of sanity was confusing. He was a beta and he didn’t seem to be afraid of him. Derek was an alpha for sakes, stronger and faster than him, he should have been able to at least intimidate him.

“You don’t get it do you?”

Derek’s eyes narrowed as he studied his face.

“Get what?”

“All of it. It’s all connected. Everything.” He started laughing again. “I was supposed to bring you here and here we are. Just like he said we would be.”

“Who said it? What are you talking about?”

The man shook his head with a smile.

“Nondum paratus sis.”

He hiked up his leg and kicked Derek off, running passed him. He made it about halfway down the alley before an arrow punctured his thigh. The man screamed snapping the arrow off just above the base of his skin. Shifting, he perked his ears listening for sudden movements to determine where his assailant might be.

Another arrow came flying at his right shoulder and then another at his left. He fell to his knees looking around at who was firing at him. Oliver stepped out of the shadows, his bow pulled in position ready to launch a final strike to his chest.

“But…you?” He wheezed, the arrows poison seeping into his body. Oliver aimed carefully with each shot, making sure to hit at the right angle for the blood to do all the work for him.

“Me.” He said sternly, releasing his fingers. The arrow pierced his chest, shredding the interior of his heart. The man toppled over with a thud as Derek ran over out of the shadows. He stared at the man looming over the corpse to check his pulse, making sure that the threat had been neutralized. His keen eyes noticed he was wearing all green and a hood that concealed his face, keeping his identity hidden.

Derek stepped into the light, his eyes still glowing. There was something familiar about the scent coming from the corpse in between them. It was a particular brand of wolfsbane, rare and lethal in high doses.

“Who are—“

Before he could finish his question, the hooded figure fired an arrow in front of him, exploding on contact with the ground. A cloud of smoke clouded the alley. Derek rushed through but when he reached the other side, he was gone. He tried to sniff him out but something in the smoke was keeping him from tracking a scent. Whoever he was he knew enough to keep himself hidden by sight and scent. Derek was sure that whoever this archer was, they were trained in defense against wolves.

Derek looked down at the body in front of him, kneeling over to pull out one of the arrows that were left behind. He examined the shape closely, looking for any distinguishing details that might lead him to who this mysterious newcomer might be. One thing was for sure, he wasn’t one of Argent’s hunters.

Turning to walk down the alley he heard a hushed groan come from the men lying in a pool of his own blood. Derek doubled back nudging him just to make sure he was hearing things.

“You…you can’t stop it, any of it.” His words were garbled but Derek was sure he could make out what he said. Nothing about what he said or what he was doing in town made any sense. Things were starting to get more and more clouded as he thought more about them.

“What is going here?”

** ζ **

Alcide walked down the steps of the abandoned warehouse, looking at the random assortment of things that littered the room. Chains, food wrappers, clothing that looked like it had been there for years and a trunk at the far end of the room against a wall. His shoes made a dragging sound as he came to a halt in the middle of the floor. Alcide’s ears twitched at the light sound of movement coming from behind him. He pulled his hands out of his pockets, his fists clinched in mild irritation.

“Come on out Peter. I know you’re there. I followed your scent all the way to this, run down warehouse so I know you’re in here somewhere.”

Peter stepped out of the shadows, a smile plastered on his face. He ran a hand over his chin, stroking at his beard in amusement.

“You were always good at sniffing people out, weren’t you Alcide.”

He turned on the balls of his feet to face him.

“I see you still lure people into your territory, classic Peter.”

“Good to know that I left an impression. Now, what can I help you with on this balmy evening?”

“I want you and your nephew to stay away from Scott.”

Peter chuckled. He stepped forward, one leg crossing over the other intruding on Alcide’s personal space.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Scott would never do anything with me. I suppose he’s still upset over the whole giving him ‘the bite’ thing and the almost turning his mom and almost killing his girlfriend on my quest for retribution for what happened to my family. But I thought that it was all water under the bridge. You know some people can really hold a grudge.”

Alcide lunged forward grapping Peter by the neck, slamming him into a walk. His eyes glowing a bright golden yellow as his claws pinched into the sides of the soft skin of Peter’s neck. Peter smiled, his eyes looking down at the hand pinning him to the wall.

“Temper is still the same as always I can see.”

“You gave him the bite!” He roared.

“You know, there’s no need to shout. Especially since you kind of spit when you shout.” He felt Alcide’s grip tighten. “Okay, okay. Yes I gave him the bite. But he didn’t want to be a part of my pack, or Derek’s pack for that matter. Scott has his own way of doing things. I have to applaud his resolve. I probably would have joined one of us but I guess we’re just not his cup of tea.”

Alcide opened his had releasing Peter to stand back on his own two feet. Peter cleared his throat, straightening out his ruffled clothing.

“If he’s not a part of your pack, why is Derek contacting him?”

“How should I know? I’m not Derek’s keeper. If you want to know what those two are up to might I suggest, asking Scott? Or have you not told him about your, little secret? Alcide Herveaux, Beacon Hills’ runaway omega.”

Alcide stepped a few feet back, holding his tongue. He pushed his hands into his pockets staring at the ground.

“You haven’t told him have you? Tisk tisk Al. Honesty is an important aspect of any relationship. You should know that by now? Or are we constantly destined to repeat history?”

“Just, stay away from Scott. I don’t want him involved in your messes.” He said walking towards the door.

“He’s a big boy Alcide. I think he can make his own decisions.” Peter shouted back, the door closing with a slam.

** ζ **

Isaac pushed on the window, wedging it open. He kind of felt bad sneaking into Vincent’s apartment but considering he snuck out the same way a few days ago, he didn’t see it as that big of a deal.

His boots hit the floor louder than he wanted. He looked around but didn’t see anyone. The apartment looked abandoned, minus all of Vincent’s things that were still there. Isaac flipped on the lamp that was on the nightstand next to the bed. Surveying the studio apartment, everything looked like it was in place, almost too clean. As if no one had been there in days.

Isaac stopped at the coffee table looking at the newspaper that lay folded up neatly in the middle. It was dated the same day that he left.

“That can’t be good.” He whispered to himself.

The thought of Vincent out looking for him made him feel a little uneasy. He was starting to think that maybe he should have left a note. Something that would tell him where he was so he wouldn’t worry. Putting the paper back he heard a knock at the door. His neck snapped staring at the shadow of feet coming from the other side.

Isaac was hesitant. It wasn’t his place so he didn’t have to answer but on the other hand maybe whoever it was could give him a clue as to where Vincent was. He crossed the floor stepping lightly. He pressed his body to the door, looking through the peephole to see who might be standing outside. Isaac knew he wouldn’t recognize whoever it was but he was still curious as to who might be knocking at this hour.

The man on the other side was tall, or tall enough to come up to the peep hole on the door. He looked pale and had dark circles under his eyes. Isaac immediately thought about how sickly he looked. He knew he was pale but this guy made him look like a tanning junkie, he looked downright dead compared to him.

“I know you’re there, I can hear you breathing against the door.”

Isaac stepped back, startled. He didn’t know that he was breathing that hard. He put his hand on the doorknob, turning it about halfway pulling the door open slightly before it was slammed closed by a hand coming from behind him.

He looked up to see Vincent staring back down at him a finger over his lips for him to be quiet. Isaac could see a glow in his eyes, the same glow he’d seen that night when he asked to stay. Vincent moved his hands quickly snapping the locks back into position. He grabbed Isaac, pulling him away from the door to the window that was still open.

“I know you’re there Vincent. You know, you don’t _have_ to let me in. I could always use force. Maybe even pick up that kid that’s been hanging around here. I’m sure he’d remember us. We got off to such a good start the other night.”

He looked at Isaac confused. Isaac shrugged his shoulders, shaking his head. He knew exactly what he was talking about but didn’t want to worry him. There was no telling what he might do.

Vincent stepped out onto the fire escape, his hand extended for Isaac to follow him. There was a part of him that felt like Princess Jasmine, the whole ‘Do you trust me’ thing came to mind in the way that he looked into his eyes. If Isaac were going to answer, it would be yes. Something about the time they’d spent together led him take his hand, trusting him fully with no questions asked.

“You can run if you want Vincent, but you know we’ll find you.”

** ζ **

Stiles opened the back door, giving Eric just enough time to slip by and downstairs without his dad noticing. Closing the door he could hear laughter coming from the dining room. He knew that his dad usually liked to work there when he was home but he’d never heard him laughing at his case files. That’s when he heard a second voice, a man. Stiles could tell from the accent that he couldn’t have been from around Beacon Hills; he’d already just assumed that he was trekked in from some other police department from upstate. It was usually where their extra hands came from.

He opened the fridge looking for something to drink, peering at the dreary selection that was in front of him. Stiles couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually done real grocery shopping, not just picking up something to eat for the night.

“Hey Stiles, can you come in here? There’s something I want you to see.”

Stiles closed the fridge door, settling on a bottle of water. He walked into the dining room, seeing his father at the table. Looking around he couldn’t place the other voice that he’d heard. There was no one in the room with him. Suddenly he was grabbed from behind. Stiles kicked his legs wildly. He’d already been jumped once tonight, he wasn’t sure if he was ready for a second.

“No Stiles, is that anyway to greet your uncle?” His unknown attacker asked, whispering in his ear.

The man released him back onto the ground. Stiles whipped around to see a scruffy man standing in front of him.

“Uncle Graham!” He gasped giving him a hug. “It’s been what, four-five years since I last saw you?”

“Yeah, seems about right. I’m sorry I wasn’t around much after my sis passed. I just, couldn’t bring myself to be around here.”

“Where’ve you been then?”

“I just packed up some stuff and moved out to Ireland for a little while, really helped me clear my head.”

“Well that explains where you picked up the accent. What are you doing here?”

“He’s actually here to help me with some of these cases.” The Sheriff answered.

“What?”

“Yeah, I just called your dad up to check on you guys and he started telling me how he was short staffed so I offered my services. It worked out great since I was moving back to the states and needed a job.” He joked.

“Plus, your uncle here is more qualified than any of the other guys that we have lined up for interviews and way more experience. It’s perfect!”

Stiles smiled trying to hide his shock. While lying to his dad wasn’t ideal, it was easy. He could spin a web that could keep himself from having to reveal the truth about what’s going on in town. But Graham, he was going to be tricky. Stiles remembered when he would come visit, how Graham would always know when something was bothering him, when he was telling a lie. He could already feel that it was going to be a problem.

“So, where are you going to be staying?”

“Well, I was going to stay here for a few nights until I can find a place in the city if that’s okay.”

“Yeah, of course. You’re family. Make yourself at home.” The Sheriff nodded, pouring himself another drink.

Graham staying in the house made him a bit uneasy considering he was hiding a vampire in the basement. He still didn’t know how his dad hadn’t noticed.

“It’s settled then.” Graham said clapping his hands together. “I’ll go get my stuff out. Don’t want to be late on my first day of work tomorrow. Night guys.” Graham slapped a hand onto Stiles shoulder, walking into the foyer and up the stairs.

Stiles listened to his footsteps trail up the stairs until he finally heard the guest bedroom door close.

“Dad, are you sure having him stay here is a good idea?”

“It’s only temporary Stiles. Besides, I could really use the help around here. Maybe he’ll actually clean up. Unlike some people I know.”

He faked a laugh taking the Jack Daniels from the table, capping it and setting it back in the kitchen. Stiles stared at the basement door. If he was going to continue to help Eric, he was going to have to get him out of the house. 


End file.
